


Self-Control

by lancer365



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Drama, F/F, I Tried, Light Angst, Romance, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lancer365/pseuds/lancer365
Summary: Seven's enthusiastic exploration of her feelings opens new doors, shedding light on something greater than an innocent bond between her and the Captain. However, once open, some doors can't be closed. No one understands this better than Captain Kathryn Janeway. (Chapter 5 up :) )
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway & Seven of Nine, Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine
Comments: 44
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**A.N.** My first ever J7 fanfic. I am in a completely different territory from what I normally write, and I am still trying to get a “feel” for these characters…so bear with me. J7 has been my OTP for years, I just never thought to write anything.

Also…I’m taking some liberties with Seven’s cortical node…at least for a moment. ;)

*Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek Voyager nor any Merriam Websters Definitions I may use.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Self-Control**

Barren blackness and shimmering stars. That’s what she watched pass the view screen from the Captain’s chair for the last two hours. After two weeks of nothing but this empty stretch of space, it was safe to say that everyone, even the Captain was beginning to succumb to boredom. At one point during the uneventful duty shift she had even caught herself examining her nails and picking out the occasional bit of grime.

“Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway.”

Her shoulders jumped at Seven of Nine’s robust voice announcing throughout the bridge. She glanced around hearing shocked gasps and clearing throats of equally startled crew members disrupted from their nodding off.

“Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway.”

She tapped her combadge. “Go ahead Seven.”

“Please report to Astrometrics.”

 _‘God not again Seven.’_ She closed her eyes and sighed but welcomed the distraction.

“Busy Day?”

At Chakotay’s voice, Janeway looked over and smirked, cocking an amused eyebrow to her first officer. They shared a knowing look at Seven’s lack of respect for the command structure. Two years on Voyager and Seven still refused to accept certain aspects of rank; one unspoken rule being: Don’t demand anything of the Captain.

Turning to the viewscreen, Janeway stared losing herself in thought.

“What do you think it is now?”

Chakotay must’ve caught her hesitance to move from her chair, something irregular of the always-ready Captain.

“This is the third time she’s called you off the bridge to various parts of the ship.”

Janeway stiffened her resolve. “You know Seven never stops… _perfecting_ whatever she can on this ship. This down time has given her an opportunity to assimilate vast amounts of new data.” She glanced to him. “She’s been pitching a slew of upgrades to Voyager’s systems…non-stop.” She shifted in her seat, leaning onto the armrest nearest to him, bringing her face closer to his, in an attempt to keep their conversation quiet. “She’s even woken me up in the middle of the night.” _‘Careful Kathryn’_

“Really?”

Janeway nodded.

“Well, better not keep our Borg Queen waiting.”

With a smirk Janeway pushed out of her chair and headed to the turbolift. “You have the bridge Commander.” She called out, walking up the steps and disappearing behind the turbolift doors all in a brisk flash.

Hearing the _*swoosh*_ of the turbolift out of her sight, B’Elanna, standing at the console behind Chakotay glanced in the direction of out the corner of her eye. “Permission to transfer my work to Engineering Commander.”

The Commander turned an ear over his shoulder staying silent for a second. “Granted.”

B’Elanna all but ran to the turbolift, hoping there was still a chance to catch up to the Captain before she once again locked herself in a room with the Ex-Borg.

“Deck 8.”

Something simmered within her. Curiosity, irritation, anger, confidence, all mashed up into one. Yet, the thought of confronting the Captain made her heart race.

_“Hi Captain is there a reason you’ve been meeting Seven of Nine behind sealed doors? You didn’t think Voyager’s best engineer wouldn’t notice, right?”_

Yeah that wouldn’t go well. A confrontation like that would most likely earn her the Captain’s “Death Glare” … or maybe even a demotion.

BUT HELL! She wasn’t going to sit around and let this go on behind her back. For days her work had been delayed as a result of these “meetings”, and too many times she’d found herself doing mindless busy work because of a sealed Jefferies tube or door. It wasn’t like she didn’t have her tricks to unseal a door manually. But, when the computer answered her inquiry with “Command sealed by Captain Janeway” she growled under her breath in response.

If the seal was only Seven of Nine’s she would have overridden it without a thought. But the thought of even _attempting_ to override the Captain’s seal unnerved her. Although not Klingon, the Captain was a formidable opponent who had long since earned her respect.

_*Hiss*_

The turbolift doors opened and she walked down the hall, feet slapping the ground, but turning corner she froze at the sight before her. Wrenching her eyes away, she yanked herself to the nearest bulkhead and pressed her back to it. Peeking her head around the corner, she studied the Captain’s profile, noticing the exasperated way Janeway rested her hands on her hips, like a winded runner finishing a race.

The Captain stood facing the door to Astrometrics, her head hanging as she mumbled something B’Elanna desperately wished she could hear. Lifting her head and pushing her hair from her face with a hand, the Captain rolled her shoulders back and stepped closer to the door. It swooshed open before her and with a sigh she stepped in.

Furrowing her brow, B’Elanna stepped out of hiding. “What’s with the guilty look?” She headed to the door knowing her pace wasn’t as fast as she wanted it to be. Something held her back, like the uncertainty of what she’d find behind those doors if she happened to make it before the command seal was placed.

Come to think of it, she didn’t even know what she’d say if she happened to find the Ex-Borg and Janeway silently staring at her.

 _‘Hey, just came to check on….’_ She scoffed and rolled her eyes. _‘Yeah right, like I ever make trips to Astrometrics.’_

Still, she made it to the door and stepped forward…but nothing happened. “Ugh.” She glanced to the door console, it displaying the word “Sealed”.

“Computer who sealed this door?”

“Command sealed by Captain Janeway.”

“Damn it.” B’Elanna pursed her lips.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Captain's back hit the console; Seven’s hand gripping the console's top behind her head and the other trailing up the small of her back.

Locked in a heated kiss with the former Borg on top of her, Janeway reached out taking Seven at the waist, pulling the blonde woman between her legs; her heart riling as Seven's thighs brushed against the inside of hers.

These sporadic rendezvous sparked after an innocent late-night meeting in her quarters, to make amends, turned into a confession of Seven’s feelings; the Ex-Borg saying she “admired” her.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _The Uneven Rift_ , _her newest book, captivated her with its dramatic, twisting plot. Eager to get back to it, she secluded herself in her quarters right after her shift and didn’t even bother to get out of her uniform._

_Twelve Pages into the chapter her door chimed, and she huffed out a short groan._

_“Come in.” Sitting on the couch with her feet propped up, uniform jacket unzipped, and the book in her hand, Janeway looked up, a bit surprised to see her late-night guest. “Seven?” She closed the book over her thumb with a gentle furrow in her brow, watching the door close and the stiff Ex-Borg clasp her hands behind her back where she stood._

_“I came to apologize.”_

_“What?” Her furrow tensed with confusion._

_“We have been at odds for several days.” Seven paused, her prideful gaze telling Janeway this was not easy for her. “The doctor is encouraging me to learn how to apologize.”_

_“…Okay…” Janeway smiled._

_“You take needless risks and I do not agree with all your decisions.” Seven lifted her chin. “The goal is to reach Earth as soon as possible, is it not?”_

_“It is.”_

_“Then these meaningless deviations from the plotted course are inefficient. 64.96% of the time these deviations result in altercations with other species, damage to Voyager, loss of Supplies, and injured crew.”_

_Janeway sighed and shook her head. “I thought you were here to apologize.”_

_“I am Captain, but I feel the need to voice my concerns first.”_

_“…Sit.” Janeway gestured to the spot next to her with a tilt of her head, lowering the tone of her voice to make sure Seven knew the command was non-negotiable._

_As Seven sat beside her, she planted her feet on the floor and set her book on the small ottoman, resting her forearms on her knees._

_“Even if we never deviated from our course, it would still take us at least forty years to reach Earth…” Janeway started glancing to Seven. “This crew can’t think about that. If we do, we lose hope.” Leaning forward she rested her head in her hands, pressing her thumbs into her temples and interlocking her fingers over her brow. “Exploring adds diversity to the trip, boosting morale. Trading with other species keeps voyager supplied and provides us with a vast amount of data on what was once uncharted territory for us.” She lifted her gaze, setting her chin on her folded hands. “Voyager has seen and may see more than any ship in its class. For the possibility that one of these species, planets, etc., may have something that will bring us closer to home, I’m willing to make deviations or take calculated risks. The crew can't think that I’ve lost hope. If I lose hope, then they will as well.” She turned to Seven with a crooked smile. “So yes, I’ll take my chances with 64 percent.”_

_“Do you not worry?”_

_Seven’s blue eyes and stern voice held a peculiar softness, and after a moment too long of gazing at the other woman without a word spoken, the Captain glanced down._

_“…I can’t. But yes Seven, I’ve had those thoughts.”_

_A bout of silence stilled the air between them and Janeway stifled a yawn looking to her book, deciding it was too late to read any more._

_“I choose to remain optimistic but that doesn’t mean I don’t see the reality. Hell, if it really does take us forty years to get back, I’ll be almost dead by the time we reach home. So I figure we have to make the best of the life we have now.” She gave a wry smirk and turned to Seven of Nine; The blonde’s gaze unwavering, penetrating her soul; the brow above those eyes knitting together._

_“What are you thinking about Seven?”_

_Seven’s gaze scanned her face and fixated on the spot below her nose._

_Awaiting an answer, she turned her face away from the Ex-Borg, not wanting to stare into those sparkling blue eyes any longer, even as beautiful as they were._

_“I admire you Captain.”_

_When Janeway turned her head in Seven’s direction her sight was crowded by a brown and yellow blur._

_“Sev—” Her words were cut off by a pair of lips on hers and her hands sat frozen in the air, wanting to create distance between them but not knowing whether or not to touch Seven. Seven’s hands were at her face, cupping her jaw and holding on just a little too tight. Seven pulled a little, drawing her further into the kiss._

_“S—” She tried to speak into the kiss, but a spark of energy rushing through her body cut her off. She sunk into the warmth of Seven’s mouth, her tensed muscles beginning to relax. ‘No.’ Finding the will to move her hands, Janeway grabbed Seven’s shoulders and pushed her back with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”_

_“Showing you my admiration.”_

_Seven pushed against her grasp and her hands slipped from Seven’s shoulders._

_“You ca—”_

_Seven’s lips crashed into hers as the Ex-Borg tried to devour her. This time her eyes almost closed but flew back open the moment her back flopped to the couch’s seat cushions, Seven climbing over her; the woman’s hands moving from her face to her shoulders and then wedging themselves under her back. She swore her heart was going to burst from her chest; it almost hurt, thumping hard against her breastbone._

_Before she had time to react, Seven’s mouth slipped from hers and attacked the side of her neck. At the sudden rush between her legs, she shoved Seven back and whisked out from beneath her. Panting, she paced her quarters with a hand on her hip, wiping her mouth and the saliva off her neck with the other._

_“What were you thinking?” Janeway turned to Seven with a sharp tone and furrowed brow; the other woman fixing her posture on the couch, sitting up with her hands bracing the edge of the seat cushions; the heavy rise and fall of her chest betraying her resolve. Now Seven’s eyes looked hungry, lustful even, staring into her own as though they’d acquired their target and were hell bent on getting what they wanted._

_With a clench in her jaw, Seven’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I simply acted on my physical response.”_

_“Physical response……to what?”_

_“…To you Captain.”_

_Janeway’s mouth just hung open and her eyebrow froze in its raised position at Seven’s words._

_“The doctor has also been encouraging me to explore my feelings.”_

_Janeway steeled her jaw, resetting her furrowed brow._

_“Admiration Captain...”_

_Seven stood and she couldn’t help but glance at her Astrometrics officer’s well-formed chest, pressed tight against her brown biosuit._

_“According to him this is the answer to my elevated heart rate and dopamine levels.”_

_“You spoke to him about your feelings for me.” With a sigh Janeway put a hand over her eyes and started a slow pace of the room once more, not paying attention to the blonde moving in her direction._

_“I thought something was malfunctioning. During my weekly checkup I explained to him the symptoms I was having.”_

_Janeway could feel Seven’s gaze burning a hole right into the side of her face. ‘Great…now I have to speak with him to make sure this doesn’t get around.’_

_“He said, and I quote, “This is a normal response to someone you admire”.”_

_“I don’t think he meant kissing me Seven.” Janeway turned to the Ex-Borg, looking her straight in the eye; the woman scanning her body with a sudden perplexed gaze._

_Seven tilted her head. “Captain…”_

_“Yes Seven.”_

_“I believe you are experiencing the same phenomenon. Your pupils are dilated, your breathing is shallow, your heartrate is elevated beyond normal parameters, and I am detecting a rise in body temperature.” Seven paused, her mouth forming a barely noticeable smirk._

_‘She just had to be Borg.’ Janeway spurted out a dry chuckle from her equally dry throat and turned away from Seven putting a hand in her pocket. “Hardly. It’s not everyday someone kisses the Captain.”_

_“My analysis says otherwise—”_

_“Would you stop scanning me?” She glanced over to Seven. “Look, shouldn’t you be regenerating—”_

_“Are you telling me to go Captain?”_

_‘No I…I didn’t mean it like that.’ Janeway ran a hand through her hair and paused for a contemplating moment, staring at her feet after hearing the disappointment in Seven’s voice. Releasing a heavy sigh, she met the Ex-Borg’s gaze. “For right now yes.”_

_Seven steeled her jaw, giving a subtle nod and the coldest utterance of “Understood” as she walked around the Captain and disappeared out the door._

_At the second hiss of her door, Janeway looked up to the ceiling and put her hands on her hips. ‘What the hell just happened……and why do I feel like I should go after her?’_

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

**Present- Astrometrics**

The first rendezvous was in an engineering Jefferies tube after three days of awkward tension following that late-night visit. Seven had called her there to “Look at a gel pack”. She should’ve known something was off, Seven never called her to examine a lousy gel pack. B’Elanna was perfectly capable of doing the same.

When Seven sealed the Jefferies tube, she knew what was coming.

That time Seven approached slower.

The Captain remembered the EX-Borg’s hand landing on the floor right between her legs; Seven moving in, taking her waist through the uniform with a tenderness she didn’t think the woman was capable of.

Leaning back on her hands, she thought about scurrying out from under the Blonde. But Kathryn Janeway was no runner. So, she stared into Seven’s eyes and Seven stared back with a longing she’d never seen. She only imagined that her own eyes showed her mind’s brimming conflict.

In a surprising twist, her hand lifted and by the arm she pulled Seven in first, initiating their second kiss. Maybe it was the look in Seven’s eyes, her own desires surfacing, or most likely both, but that kiss solidified a new chapter in their relationship and the emerging of her subsequent guilt.

Ever since that rendezvous, Seven had been insatiate, and in turn she kept answering the Ex-Borg’s call. She figured this was probably the sixth time her back ended up on top of a console, not counting the bulkheads she been pinned to.

For a moment, she wondered if Seven actually was malfunctioning, unable to process all the rampant emotions in time to keep herself even-tempered, and like a cup overflowing it all spilled out at once.

_‘Katie you know you love this.’_

True, she fed off the arousal, even loving it when Seven still called her "Captain" in the heat of the moment. Call it a guilty fantasy.

Janeway smirked into the kiss, one hand tightening around Seven’s waist and the other flat against the console to stabilize herself. Pushing off her hand she slid up the console, taking Seven with her as she pulled the woman in closer. Unbeknownst to her, that hand shifted over the console's lit display, her pinky inching closer to a red square only responsive to her fingerprint.

It hit it.

Voyager’s sirens flared on all decks. The bright overhead lights cut off, giving way to a darker, energy efficient luminescence as warning lights around the room and on the consoles flashed a pulsating red.

The Captain jumped splitting the kiss; a surge of adrenaline rushing through her on automatic response. She put her hand to Seven’s shoulder about to push the woman back and rush to the bridge…until…she rolled onto her side and looked at the red square her finger landed on. Smacking her lips her mouth drew into a tight smile. “Shit.”

With her finger still on the button, she took her hand from Seven and reached between them to the console, keying in her “Red Alert Deactivation” code.

The flashing red lights died, and the ship returned to its bright, humming atmosphere.

“Cap—”

The Captain covered Seven’s mouth and tapped her combadge, one leg dangling from the console and the other loosely locking Seven between her. “Janeway to Voyager. Stand down Red Alert.” She started in her Captain’s voice. “False Alarm. As you were.” She waited a second in silence then looked to Seven, watching the Ex-Borg raise the implant over her eye. Removing the hand over Seven’s mouth she grinned. “These are the things that happen as Captain.”

Seven smirked back at her and a moment later Janeway broke their eye contact with a sigh.

“But really Seven…” Janeway sat up, pushing Seven back and hopping off the console to pace the room. “We’ve gotta stop.” She kept her back turned to the blonde, heading towards one of the wall consoles. Crossing an arm over her chest, her hand grasped her opposite elbow; the other arm lifting her fingers to her chin in thought. “How many times have we done this this week?”

“Irrelevant.”

Janeway turned to Seven with an upward crease in her brow. “Really?”

Seven pressed her lips together, letting her eyes size up the Captain’s physique. “Yes…” She straightened her posture with an inhale and lifted her chin, looking into the older woman’s eyes. “I have…urges. And I believe you have them too.”

Janeway sighed and knowing smile gracing her lips.

Seven’s lack of self-control was simply her not understanding how precious it was to humankind. Throughout their lives, humans learned the art of self-control through the establishment of societal norms, but Seven was without these. That’s why the Ex-Borg spoke her mind when she wanted and acted as she wanted, appearing insubordinate and troublesome.

The crew saw this brazen confidence as arrogance, and while Janeway understood why, Seven’s personality also made her a breath of fresh air and an irresistible lover, just the opposite of her staunch Captain’s persona.

A Captain had to be reserved, poised, and most importantly, in complete control of himself or herself. To falter would show weakness. At least, that’s how she was taught.

 _‘Taught.’_ That word rang a bell. Much like Seven, she too had been groomed on how to talk and act.

With her gaze down, she started towards Seven then stopped and leaned her hip against one of the outer consoles. “Acting on those “urges” would be detrimental to my duty as Captain.” Looking to Seven, she drew in a breath readying herself to speak but was beat to the punch as soon as she opened her mouth.

“You are going to tell me that as Captain you should not fraternize with crew.” Seven clasped her hands behind her back.

Janeway opened her mouth and was cut off again.

“I respect that—”

“No Seven you don’t.”

“I did not finish what I was saying.”

With a smirk, Janeway raised her eyebrows, gesturing to the woman across from her with an acquiescent hand. “Please.”

“The doors are sealed and internal sensors have been deactivated. Does this not afford you the privacy you wish for?”

“Sealed doors are a great way to start rumors, especially when the Captain is behind them.”

“Why do you keep refuting me?”

Janeway turned her profile to Seven and sat against the console, her hands bracing its edges as she stared at the main door. “A starship Captain’s place is not on her back.”

“Do you wish to be on top?” Seven took a couple steps forward with confident eyes, oblivious to the Captain’s blushing, amused smile. “I believe the urges would dissipate if we were to have sex.”

 _‘Oh Seven…’_ Janeway put a hand over her eyes with a sigh. “That could also make things worse.” She ran the hand through her hair and looked up.

“Explain.” Seven pushed with irritated urgency.

“I will.” Pushing off the console, Janeway started towards the door. “Computer lift command seal on Astrometrics door.”

“Captain?”

At the sudden confusion in Seven’s voice, she stopped just short of the door and turned over her shoulder, her eyes meeting the Ex-Borg’s. “I’ll explain, but not here.” She paused, looking ahead once more. “Meet me at my quarters tonight, 2100 hours…and _try_ to be discreet.” With that she stepped out of room, briskly heading back to the bridge.

Once the door closed, Seven clenched her jaw and turned to the console, grabbing its edge. Slamming her eyes shut, her face contorted as an agonizing pain tore through her head. Slowly, she began to hunch forward. This headache wasn’t the first, but each time they came they got worse. What started out as a dull ache a week ago, had now become a searing stab.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Captain report here, Captain this, Captain that, UGH!” B’Elanna paced their shared quarters throwing her hands up in emphasis to her tirade. Tom laid on the couch in front of her, just watching and listening, the smartest thing to do.

“Almost sounds like you’re jealous.”

“The Captain runs to her at every whim.” She continued her pace. “Seven gets everything she wants.”

“Well I don’t think she gets ev—”

“Think about it Tom.” B’Elanna’s eyes widened in realization. “The Captain risked all of our lives to save Seven from the Borg, not once but twice. _Even_ after Seven said “I _want_ to rejoin the collective”.”

“I think Captain would do that for any of us.”

“Really Tom?” B’Elanna bobbed her head down as though ready to fight. She scoffed. “She nearly let me get my brains fried out by those telepaths, talking about “we can’t pick and choose which laws we will and won’t follow”. But with Seven it’s like Fuck the Borg, Fuck protocol, let’s start a fucking war.” She sighed, coming down from her high. “I don’t know Tom. I don’t know why it bothers me so much.”

“Maybeee…” He shrugged. “Janeway’s got a crush on her…”

B’Elanna’s eyes flicked to his. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Or maybe she sees her as a daughter—”

“More like a beloved science project.” She grumbled.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 **A.N.** I hope this was okay. I know this could be edited more. However, I am really on a time crunch with this story as things in my personal life are about to change. The story is already completely drafted out from beginning to end (about 50 notebook pages lol). So far it is about five to six chapters long. Thank you for reading. :) 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**20:55 Hours**

The Captain tasted sweet; her hair soft, and she was also proving to be a surmounting distraction.

For the rest of the day, Seven found herself preoccupied with thoughts of the Captain and unable to get much work done, yearning for the red haired woman’s invigorating touch.

Walking down the emptying corridor of deck three, she still recalled the Captain’s kiss in fleeting images; her eidetic memory not allowing her a moment of reprieve. She could pick a specific aspect of their kiss and hone in on it relentlessly. Like the tenderness of the woman’s lips, the exciting rumble within her own body as the kiss grew deeper, the flush of warmth over her skin, the whirling of her mind, and the shuttering of her breath.

That first kiss stood out the most, not only because of the Captain’s flustered reaction, but also because of her own underestimating of how intense something as simple as a human kiss could be. 

When the Doctor reassured her that her peculiar feelings for the Captain were normal, she didn't expect her meeting in the Captain's quarters that same day to be anything but cordial.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_“Seven these human feelings are a normal response to someone you admire and have become attached to.” He gave her that giddy grin, seemingly happier than her. “Think about it. The Captain knows you the best and has followed your journey from the very beginning. It’s not a malfunction. You’re starting to care about her. Your emotions are beginning to expand, and you’re forming bonds with the Voyager crew. It’s a wonderful thing. I urge you to explore it.”_

_“I am not sure I agree. The Captain and I have been at odds, arguing for the last few days. Her responses are becoming more…confrontational.”_

_“So then, why don’t you try apologizing?”_

_“Explain.”_

_“Saying you’re sorry Seven.”_

_“If I am not?”_

_“Still, try apologizing Seven. Humans on Earth apologize to make amends, even if they don’t see eye to eye. Besides…” He mumbled, looking away with a gentle purse to his lips. “I doubt the Captain is the aggressor in most of these arguments.”_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a matter of days, that slew of arguments had drawn a rift between them, happening everywhere around the ship—the ready room, conference room, engineering, the hallway—the crew no doubt listening in on their conversations.

The final straw occurred on the bridge, in front of the crew, just before Voyager hit its long stretch of empty space.

_“A foolish Decision.”_ She remembered saying, refuting the practicality of diverting Voyager from its efficient path once again to explore an unknown planet.

The Captain dismissed her from the Bridge that day and as she walked to turbolift she caught Lieutenant Paris’s offhanded _“Arguing like a married couple”_ comment; a poor attempt to lighten the mood.

_“Focus on your duties Lieutenant, or you’ll be next.”_

She heard the Captain snap just before the turbolift doors closed.

Janeway always visited Astrometrics in the morning and Cargo Bay 2 in the evening, unless called away elsewhere. The Captain leaning over the Astrometrics console with a hand curled under her chin was always a pleasing sight. The light from the viewscreen would cast the woman’s features aglow, highlighting and defining her sharp jaw. And in Cargo Bay 2, Seven found ease in looking down into the Captain’s eyes just before locking into the Alcove. The Captain’s warm, inviting gaze reassured her and that was something she missed in the days Janeway didn’t speak to her following the Bridge Dismissal.

In the Captain’s absence she found her thoughts wandering, wondering about the older woman.

Was she in her ready room burning her tongue on her third cup of coffee, not patient enough to let it cool? Was she behind her desk glaring at a PADD? Or pacing and mumbling in frustration? Was she elsewhere in the ship, annoyingly tapping her finger on a work console as she tried to figure out a problem? Or was she smiling as she spoke to other members of the crew?

The Captain’s absence brought emptiness.

As Borg she truly felt nothing, emotions were just an empty void, inaccessible. But as a human the solemn feeling of emptiness was hard to bear. That night in the Captain’s quarters, she apologized hoping to fill the void.

Sitting on the couch with her uniform jacket unzipped, Janeway was still a powerful sight to behold.

One hundred-twenty-five Beats Per Minute. That’s what her own heart registered as she stepped into the Captain’s Quarters and locked eyes with the red-headed woman across from her that night. 

To her surprise the Captain wasn’t hostile but rather caught off guard by the unexpected visit.

Sitting beside the Captain, Seven found her thoughts frozen and her focus glued to the woman more than her words. When Janeway turned to her with a glint of defiance roaming in her grey eyes and that crooked grin, she felt a spark and acted, letting her instincts do the rest.

On top of the Captain she recalled Janeway’s hands at her shoulders, trying to push her away...until they didn’t. The Captain’s touch was a curious, enthralling sensation that—

“Seven?”

The quizzical voice of Voyager’s chief engineer tore the Ex-Borg from her musings as they stopped in the hall facing each other.

“Shouldn’t you be regenerating?”

Clasping her hands behind her back, Seven tilted her chin up. “Lieutenant.” She regarded the confused look on B’Elanna’s face and glanced to the door they stood right in front of. Unfortunately…the Captain’s Quarters.

Silence saturated the air around them.

Seven straightened her posture to nothing short of professional and clenched her jaw watching the engineer’s widening eyes peel from the Captain’s door then look at her. For a long second B’Elanna continued to shift between the two, as though she were making sense of something; whatever it was seeming to make her progressively uneasy.

“You are not part of the night duty shift Lieutenant. Should you not be sleeping as well?”

“Not when there’s a problem with the warp core.” B’Elanna paused. “You coming to see the Captain for some reason?”

“…Yes…”

B’Elanna made no attempt to move without further elaboration.

“…to finish a conversation we did not have time for.”

“Oh.” After another long pause the half-Klingon started around her. “I better get to engineering.”

Seven watched the lieutenant pass, but B’Elanna avoided her gaze.

“Seven.”

“Lieutenant.” Seven turned to face the door and waited for the engineer to disappear around the corner before ringing the chime to the Captain’s quarters.

The door opened and she entered, looking about the spacious quarters, noting the dramatic decrease in ambient lighting, giving the room a “warmth” as the Captain once explained.

Apparently, humans saw the inefficient lighting as comforting.

“Seven.”

Her heart leapt at the sultry voice calling her name. And when she finally found the Captain the woman was approaching her, her uniform still on but pushed up at the sleeves; a hand stuck in her pocket and the other letting a small glass tumbler dangle. Recently trimmed, her bob looked slightly tousled, as though the Captain had been running her fingers through her hair several times.

Stunned by the Captain’s raw appearance, Seven's throat tightened, constricted airways making her chest begin to ache. Something about this Janeway felt different. The Captain’s proud shoulders hunched with a gentle heaviness and her eyes glanced about the ground as if dreading something.

Seven released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and swallowed the lump in her throat, noting how her palms began to sweat as her temperature rose; her hands even tingling a bit in anticipation. The feeling much like the onset of one of those “urges”. She wanted to touch her, to explore this mysterious facet of _her_ Captain, but Janeway’s glum demeanor told her now was not the time.

Seven turned her attention to the glass tumbler. “Synthehol Captain?”

The Captain looked up with a troubled crease in her brow, appearing caught off guard. “…No…the real thing…I figured I would need it.” She tried to smile before she turned around and meandered to the couch sitting beneath starry viewports.

“Captain, alcohol is—”

Janeway held her hand up, attempting to abate any concerns. “Bad for my health. I know, the replicator told me too.”

“Then why drink it?” Seven watched the Captain sit propping her elbow atop the couch’s back, resting her hand against her temple while the other set the tumbler of clear liquid on her thigh. As the Captain stretched her neck, looking up to the stars, Seven took in the supple skin beneath the woman’s jaw, recalling how her simple kiss in that spot had Janeway shoving her away.

“It’s a human thing Seven.”

“To impair your senses and deteriorate your bodily functions.”

The Captain hung her head with a chuckle and smiled. “I guess.”

“Captain?” Seven started forward with a furrowed brow. Humans were so stupid sometimes. Surely this was an unnecessary risk.

“Seven.” Janeway halted her with a raised hand once more and looked up. “Just let me have this drink.”

Now closer than before, Seven studied the woman below her, noting the tired redness in Janeway’s eyes. “You need sleep.” Her voice softened.

“Probably.” Janeway sighed out the word. “It was a sixteen-hour shift for me.”

“Alcohol consumption before bed is not wise.”

“On the contrary Seven…” Janeway leaned back into the couch, her arm draping over the top. “This will ease me into a peaceful slumber. And if you must know this is my third drink.”

“What about your duty shift?”

“I’ve taken the morning off. I figured this would be an all-nighter.”

“Captain—”

“I didn’t ask you here to accost me on my drinking habits—”

“I was going to ask what it was you wanted to explain.”

The Captain closed her mouth with a smile, but it soon faded as her eyes wandered about room. “Why did you kiss me Seven?”

“I assume you are referring to the first time.”

“Right.” Janeway nodded and looked back to the woman before her.

“I simply acted upon my body’s physiological response to you.” Seven watched Janeway’s eyebrows raise in response to that statement only to furrow once again.

“Didn’t we talk about the difference between having an impulse and acting upon it?”

“Yes…” Seven paused. “But Captain…”

“Hm.”

“You have not rejected my advances in the last two weeks…” The Ex-Borg smirked and Janeway looked away, moistening her dry lips before taking a sip of her drink.

“And I want more.”

The Captain’s eyes went wide, snapping to hers, the rim of the tumbler still at her lips.

Raising the implant over her eye, Seven continued. “I have already processed ten simulations on how to initiate sexual relations with you in this moment.”

The Captain coughed and tried to clear her throat multiple times. Judging by that reaction, some of the alcohol had slipped into her windpipe, no doubt an unpleasant sensation.

“I will remove the drink from your hand and untuck your shirt so I can—”

“Seven please.” With a hoarse voice, Janeway raised her hand and shifted in her seat.

“I have failed to reach that goal.”

“The Untucking?” Janeway smirked.

“Precisely.”

Janeway looked into the cup on her thigh. “Look Seven…We could screw each other until our brains fall out but—”

“Screw?”

The Captain glanced up to the Ex-Borg. “…Copulate—”

“Have Sex.” Janeway appeared stunned by her words and Seven wasn’t sure why. Every time she said the word “Sex” the Captain paled a little and gave her a crooked smile. In this case, she also dropped her gaze.

“…Right.”

“Your Point?”

Taking her arm from the couch, the Captain hunched over her lap and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What do you know about love Seven?”

Seven stood quiet, her eyes growing distant for a moment then brightening with life once more. “It is an attraction based on sexual desire.”

* * *

**A.N. Sorry this was short. I probably shouldn’t have released this yet, it’s a little early, but this one time I will break my editing rules. The next part is done but just needs some more time in editing. That part will pick up right where this leaves off but focus on Janeway. Thanks for reading. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

** Chapter 3 **

_“It is an attraction based on sexual desire.”_

The Captain looked up in time to watch the cogs turn in Seven’s head before the Ex-Borg gave that very impersonal and rather indifferent answer. Sometimes reading Seven was difficult. Her kisses were full of passion, yet she didn’t understand love. Or did she? It was hard to tell when the woman always had the same expressionless mask.

But that longing…she’d seen it in Seven’s eyes.

Averting her concerned gaze, she took another sip of her drink.

This beautiful woman wanted her, every ounce, every inch. But she hesitated to give Seven even more, fearing the tainting of their bond and of her command. Years of leadership training and service only allowed her to feel guilt at crossing the line between mentor and mentee.

“Do you not want this Captain?”

God she did…and for some reason Seven’s words stung. The blonde barely knew the extent of her feelings—the nightly Cargo Bay 2 visits, her silent worry when she sent Seven on away missions, the moments her heart leapt at the Ex-Borg’s rare smile, and the way she felt she’d give anything to protect her.

She saw herself, even in the Ex-Borg’s stoic gaze.

At first, she shrugged off the attraction, thinking Seven’s Aphrodite-like beauty made her an object of every crew members’ desire. Leaving little to the imagination with her skin-tight biosuit, voluptuous breasts and perfect butt, Seven was hard not to fawn over or admire in some way.

But it became more than just a physical attraction, more than her simply admiring Seven's statuesque perfection from afar. She began to ruminate over that idea shortly after saving Seven from the collective for the second time. She didn’t sleep much throughout the whole ordeal, and that meant weeks of dozing off a couple hours at time amongst bouts of tossing and turning. She swore she was ready to kill someone by the time the away crew infiltrated the Borg hive; Chakotay even commenting on her edginess during one of their ready room chats.

On Earth she hadn’t much considered the thought of dating women; it just didn't often cross her mind.

But there was one. 

Green eyes and dark hair shaded from the Indiana sun under a black cowboy hat. She remembered the fiery, barrel racing ranch hand she grew a fondness for.

Like something out of a bodice ripper, the gruff woman atop her hoof-pounding black steed, captivated her then twenty-six-year-old self. Naively, she thought she had found love in the wispy fields of Indiana, but something never felt right as they made out, something was always missing. Then Mark came along; the perfect image of everything her mother wanted her to marry.

He was a good guy, funny and sweet. But overwhelmed with work as a Starfleet officer, her memories of the girl in Indiana faded, and she hardly noticed the small ways her and Mark began to drift apart. He wanted her to stay on the ground with him, not liking her constant deployments. Ultimately, the Dear John letter he sent was saddening, but also freeing in so many ways.

Funny though, She never thought an emancipated Borg from the Delta quadrant would be the one person she felt complete with.

Seven intrigued her, challenged her, and mystified her, making her think she was in control until she realized she wasn’t. However, her attraction wasn’t all based on a lust-inducing power struggle.

In fact, her journey with Seven strangely reminded her of a book written in the late 23rd century by an unknown author, called _The Separation_. In the book two lovers are torn apart by unforeseeable events, only to die separated and meet again as two different people. Although emotionally heavy, that story comforted her romantic notions that sometimes people were just destined to be together, like those two lovers reincarnated and reunified in a different life.

She felt like she had always known Seven. They complimented each other. And in the Ex-Borg’s presence, she felt ease and stability.

However, a darker notion tugged at her, that maybe she was wrong about their bond.

In ancient Greek mythology beautiful Sirens lured sailing ships to their doom. Maybe Seven sang a rapturous song to reel in Voyager’s level-headed Captain, only to send her rushing into Borg space, time and time again. Maybe it was all a ploy by the Borg, a new strategy of infiltration and assimilation, by sending in one of their own as a mole. After all, the Borg Queen was only getting smarter and wasn’t exactly rushing to re-assimilate Seven of Nine on their last run in.

That thought made her chuckle, only spurred by doubt from the dark recesses of her mind. Seven had an innocence in her eyes, and although the blonde had proven herself to be sometimes foe instead of friend, she seemed to know where her loyalties were.

“Captain?”

Hearing Seven’s voice, Janeway knew she had been silent for too long.

 _“Of course I do.”_ That’s how she wanted to answer Seven’s question, but…she barely trusted herself with a relationship, typically being the reason why they ended. She didn’t get to captaining an intrepid class ship like Voyager by relying on love. Hard work, dedication, and ultimately sacrifice got her to the Captain’s chair.

Sometimes she forgot about special occasions and important dates, so lost in her own work. But she still tried, wanting to know love’s embrace.

The beautiful coincidence was that Seven, in some instances, was the same—a work-a-holic set in her ways. In fact, watching Seven work and strive for perfection mesmerized her, fueling her own motivation and convincing her that together they were unstoppable.

Before Janeway knew it, her hand reached out, waiting for Seven.

“Captain?”

The young woman started closer and their gazes locked. For moment, she didn’t think Seven would take her hand, until she did.

Looking to the hand in hers, she leaned forward, the tumbler sliding to her knee. She pulled Seven’s hand to her, feeling a drowsiness begin to set in as she rested her elbow on her unoccupied knee and kissed Seven’s hand.

“Captain?”

Janeway craned her neck up to meet Seven’s confounded gaze; the woman standing in front of her, thighs inches from her face. “What do you feel Seven?” Awaiting an answer, Janeway’s eyes traipsed down the blonde, to the gentle liquid rippling in the tumbler with the slightest tense of her hand. Her gaze stayed there, and her mind zoned out in the silence.

“I am…uncertain…”

 _‘Maybe this is where she realizes this isn’t what she wants._ ’ The Captain loosened her grip on Seven’s hand.

“But…I do not want you to let go.”

The Captain’s eyes widened. She looked up, meeting Seven’s gaze. _‘I won’t…But sometimes I may be forced to.’_ That’s what she thought about saying, but in the place of those words stood only silence. She went to look down with a sigh, but Seven’s hand slipped from her grasp and caught her chin, lifting her gaze once more. On the other side of the Captain’s face, smooth implanted fingertips came to her jaw; their slight chill on her skin reminding her with a fleeting thought that Seven wasn’t completely human.

Seven’s eyes studied her face and she did the same, eyes drifting over the Ex-Borg’s features. She stopped and stared at the implant over the woman’s eye, wanting to trace it with a finger, to feel the metal that invaded her body.

She admired Seven too. Even if the woman didn’t recognize it herself, she had incredible tenacity and strength.

Seven looked into her eyes, and awashed in icy starlight those blue eyes looked even more piercing than normal. But now, they held assurance and even a gentle peace.

She closed her eyes as Seven leaned down, knowing what was going to happen and only wanting to focus on the comforting sensation of their lips touching.

_‘A perfect end to my day…’_

Kissing Seven eased her more than the alcohol. A gentle relief flowed between them, calming her pounding heart. Her hand lifted and slipped to the back of Seven’s thigh, wanting to pull the woman closer, but when her core started to ache at the thought of peeling off the thin biosuit inhibiting her touch, she pushed Seven back, breaking the kiss with a weary sigh.

Downing the last of her drink, she hung her head and rubbed her eyes. “Don’t you need to regenerate?”

“Not necessarily. Regenerating on a daily basis is not required but recommended.” Seven paused. “Also, the Doctor has been encouraging me to start getting used to sleeping.”

A gentle chuckle came from the Captain. “He’s been encouraging you to do a lot lately.” She yawned, resting the side of her heavy head in her palm, her eyes burning.

“You are tired.”

“…I am.” She nearly whispered, taking a deep breath. “And that kiss took everything I had, so…” She stood, brushing past Seven with the glass in her hand, pushing her hair out of her face as she trekked towards the bedroom. “You’re welcome to stay, but I’ve hit my limit for tonight. All I want to do is lay down.” She disappeared into the room, setting the glass on the nightstand.

“Captain.”

A soft voice called her from behind and Seven’s hands enveloped her shoulders, forcing her to turn around. She looked to Seven, a bit perplexed by the Ex-Borg’s actions as her uniform jacket was unzipped, but found herself too tired to wonder why. The jacket peeled from her body with little effort on her part and she sat on the bed’s edge, looking to her uniform in Seven’s grasp. It looked kind of small compared to the tall woman standing before her.

“To be discreet, I should leave at 0200 hours.”

Janeway wedged out of her shoes and lifted her legs, letting her side sink into the mattress’s welcoming plushness.

The bed shifted behind her, and the last thing she felt was a hand coming to rest on her shoulder.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Captain of an elite starship looked so vulnerable asleep. This only reinforced her argument that sleep was an inefficient and unsafe activity. At least with regeneration she stood and maintained a small amount of awareness, much more formidable than someone having to get up from a prone position, who would no doubt be momentarily incapacitated by confusion and grogginess.

For these reasons sleep remained elusive to her.

She watched the Captain until 0200 hours, having tried to lay down only to sit up instead. Staying quiet, she found solace in monitoring the Captain’s slow breaths and heart rate throughout the night, even as a nagging ache pulsed at the front of her head.

Easing from the bed to her feet, she started towards the door; a halt in her steps at the bedroom doorway catching her off guard as a pang of reluctance surfaced from…somewhere.

Continuing on, she crossed the living room and stopped at the door, watching it zip open before her. She stood, her gaze drifting from the hallway bulkhead opposite her, to the bedroom’s doorway. A chill brushed across her face; the differing in temperature between the warmth of the Captain’s Quarters and the draftier hallway bringing her focus back.

With confident, measured steps, she strode from the room to Cargo bay 2, only passing a few crew members she didn’t really know on her way to the turbolift.

At a hard pinch in her head, she stumbled, her hand going to catch herself at the wall.

_“Seven of Nine.”_

High-pitched squealing ripped through her ears and she slammed her eyes shut, leaning closer to the wall, missing the calling of her name.

_‘Why does this keep happening?’_

She started forward once more, slower than before, and with a hand nursing the side of her head she entered the turbolift.

“Deck 9.” She huffed, her brow furrowed in confusion as she lowered her hand and took a deep breath.

The doors opened and out of them she walked, entering cargo bay 2 with 3 hours and 54 minutes left before her next duty shift. As the pain dissipated, she tried to recompose herself, accessing the console across from the alcove. “Computer, send all database files under the topic “love” to alcove two for assimilation.” She paused, recalling how her last attempt to download a multitude of files at once resulted in an overload of her systems. “Computer limit the number of files per hour to fifty and focus on the region of same-sex relationships between human females.”

“Acknowledged.”

The ache in her head throbbed. “…Computer…run physiological diagnostic first.” Seven walked up to the alcove.

“Acknowledged.”

She locked in.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_“Seven of Nine…”_

In her alcove, Seven’s brow furrowed at the unwelcome intrusion.

_“I can see your memories…I know your Captain’s vulnerabilities…Return to me...We are one.”_

Seven’s eyes shot open. She recognized the Borg Queen’s slithery voice too well.

_“Return to your collective. I won’t hesitate as I did before to take action.”_

Seven glanced around Cargo bay 2, focusing on the darkest corners of the room. Even with her heightened acuity in one eye, she found no movement, nothing to suggest anyone but her occupied the room.

_“Voyager is not your home. We are.”_

Seven’s eyes darted about, searching for the source of the disembodied voice. “I will not comply.” She stepped out of the alcove. Her feet just barely touched the floor before she stumbled, collapsing at the white hot, searing pain stabbing through her frontal lobe to the base of her neck, like a fire poker shoved through her head. Her ears squealed; ear drums buzzing, pressure rising, like a time bomb ready to explode. On her hands and knees she grasped her head, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Comply or you will suffer the consequences.”

The voice became aggressive, hovering right above her, and in her blurry peripheral vision she saw two Borg-type boots stop in front of her.

“Voyager isn’t untouchable anymore. I’ve downloaded the schematics from your memory. I see through your eyes…” The Borg Queen glanced around the Cargo Bay. “Such a _simple_ ship.”

Out of instinct Seven crawled on her forearms, trying to make it to the door.

“Stop resisting.”

“I will not c—” She grunted through a spike of pain. “I will...not comply.”

“Fine. Then I will take Janeway’s life, if it is the only thing that will convince you.” The Borg Queen looked up and closed her eyes, smiling after a moment.

“Deck one life support offline.” Voyager’s computer chimed overhead.

“Stop!” Seven growled, trying to stand on unsteady feet, stumbling with each greater wave of pain.

“Voyager can’t do much if its Captain can’t breathe.”

Seven trudged forward, one step after the other with a hand pressed to her head, feeling the Borg Queen’s presence lingering behind her. _‘Voyager is my home.’_ The closer she got to the Cargo Bay door, the more the pain began to subside, until it withered to an angry, throbbing twinge. The doors opened and she rushed out, all but running to the turbolift. And riding up to the bridge in this most dire moment, the turbolift couldn’t be slower, her eyes darting in frustration at its snail’s pace.

It stopped and she lunged forward, but the doors didn’t open.

“No!” Seven’s fist slammed into the door. She turned scanning the turbolift for a control panel, not at all startled by the Borg Queen’s sudden presence behind her. Finding the panel, she ripped the cover off to reveal a small console connected to a system of wires.

“You are now obsolete. Your old codes will not override our upgraded algorithms.”

Seven feverishly worked at the console to no avail, Voyager rejected her each time.

“She’s dying. Leave Voyager and rejoin the collective. You are unique.”

Seven ignored her, throwing herself at the doors to pry them open with her bare hands.

“The last life sign will fade in five seconds.”

Seven pried harder, muscles ﬂexing through the biosuit, the doors opening mere inches.

Then the doors zipped back on their own, just like normal. She rushed out only to freeze at the sights before her. A massacre. An atrocity. The eerie silence she couldn’t bear. This silence felt very different as she looked around the darkened bridge at the bodies, senior crew and not, scattered around the floor. The red alert lights blinking.

“...Captain?”

There was no response.

A sour pit burned in her stomach, and she walked down the steps towards the helm, slow. She turned to face the Captain's chair and nearly collapsed at the sight. Her heart wasn't beating anymore. She rushed to the Captain's side, where Janeway laid on her stomach on the ﬂoor; her dead, open-eyed gaze looking to her Captain's chair.

Seven grabbed the Captain under her arms, ﬂipping her over and pulling her into her lap in one ﬂuid movement, but she nearly dropped her in shock, staring at the body with horrified eyes.

This lifeless weight, that felt like jello in her hands, wasn't the Captain. Her hand trembled as she grabbed the back of Janeway's ﬂopped head and tried to pull that haunting gaze to hers.

"What's your choice, Seven of Nine?" The Borg Queen appeared, standing over her.

The Captain's grey eyes were just black.

"Bridge to EMH." Seven's voice cracked as she looked up to Chakotay's slumped body hunched over in his chair.

"EMH is oﬄine." The computer answered.

"Silly girl, even an EMH can't bring someone back from the dead."

 _*Click*…*hissss*_ Oxygen began filtering into the Bridge from Voyager’s overhead vents.

"This is a dream." Seven held the Captain to her, her eyes darting.

"No, something greater. A connected consciousness. A simulation of what I can do." The Borg Queen paused. "Your time on Voyager has been valuable to us. I've been watching you since our last encounter." She circled around seven. "Your attraction to this human weakens you and stunts your potential. She is weak, she is fallible."

"She is stronger than you know."

The Borg Queen smiled. "I'll give you some time to say your goodbyes. I'm conﬁdent that what I showed you will persuade you to think otherwise. I have nothing against Janeway...but she is getting in my way.” The Borg Queen turned to begin her retreat. “One word of this to her and I will deactivate you—"

“Then do it.”

At Seven’s defiance the Borg Queen faced the former drone once more, studying the woman’s eyes. She lifted her hand and Seven cringed, hunching over the Captain’s body as the Cortical Node was extracted from her head. “You don’t want that.” Flying into her grasp, the Borg Queen examined the node in her hand and looked back to Seven, whose veins began to bulge from her skin. “Without regulation your nano probes would cease to function. They may even begin to attack your organic cells and tissues, trying to survive.”

Intermittent tremors rushed through Seven.

“Then your organic functions would begin to shut down.”

With every breath Seven tried to take, her chest constricted more and more, not allowing her to take in any air. Her lungs weren’t expanding, and she began to suffocate.

“Heroics are not worth your trouble.” The Borg Queen sent the node back to the suffering woman, watching it lock into place. “Even in death the knowledge you’ve assimilated on Voyager will be added to the collective. It would be in your best interest to rejoin us and let your potential flourish.” The Borg Queen turned her back to the panting woman and her image ﬁzzled out.

_"You will always be Borg."_

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Regeneration cycle incomplete."

Seven's eyes ﬂew open and from the alcove she took off with a brisk, long-strided walk out of Cargo bay 2, subtle shutters pulsing down her back as she headed to the turbolift in the dead of night.

"Deck 3."

Her heart beat against her chest the whole way up. That "simulation" felt too real. The Captain’s dead weight in her arms, and the seizing pain that coursed through her after her Cortical Node was taken, stuck with her the most.

When the doors opened, she all but thrust herself out of the lift, her chest nearly heaving by the time she stopped in front of the Captain's quarters. "Computer open Captain's quarters door, override algorithm Seven-Theta-Eight."

The computer didn't acknowledge and for a second nothing happened. But then, the door zipped back on its own and she stepped in, glancing about the room as it closed behind her.

Everything was just the same as when she first left, except the room was shrouded in darkness. 

She headed to the bedroom doorway and for a stilling moment her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Janeway lying on her stomach, sprawled across the top of the bed, her hand dangling over the side.

 _'62 bpm'_ She scanned the Captain and felt relief wash over her, walking over to the opposite side of the bed to climb atop.

 _“I am putting her at risk.”_ Her conscience spoke up as she sat and settled her back against the fabric headboard. Looking to the Captain’s sleeping form, she lifted her hand, placing it on the Captain’s back, careful not to wake her; her hand becoming one with the easy rise and fall tempo.

With each of the Captain’s measured breaths, she followed the expanding and collapsing of the rib cage beneath her palm, letting the gentle release of tension pass through her too.

_“The Borg Queen is trying to intimidate me. I cannot let her.”_

A groan stirred from the woman beside her. The Captain rolled over, eyes cracking open for a split second as she turned on her side to face the Ex-Borg.

“Seven are you still here?”

At the drowsy, husky voice, Seven looked to the curled, limp hand, whose knuckles rested against the outside of her thigh.

“Yes Captain.”

A lazy, sighed “Hm” was the only response she received before the great Kathryn Janeway drifted right back to sleep.

Seven studied the headstrong person beside her, remembering how fervently the Captain fought to get her back from the Borg the second time. Standing in the Borg Queen’s chamber, she witnessed a dangerous anger in the Captain’s eyes she would never forget.

_“If I leave, the Captain will come after me, as she would for any crew member. She will put herself and Voyager in danger. I must find a way to sever the Borg Queen’s link myself.”_

_\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

**A.N.** Thanks for reading. This story is turning out a little different than I thought it would. Getting into these characters' heads is not easy and I hope I am doing a decent enough job lol.


	4. Chapter 4

** Chapter 4 **

Warm, rich, chocolaty notes swam through the air beckoning her senses. She could taste the sweet bitterness on her tongue. She stirred and sat up slow, draping her legs over the bed’s edge and giving her back a stretch. Looking over her shoulder she did a double take, her brow furrowing over her dark grey eyes at the odd sight of a fresh uniform, spread out perfectly atop the comforter.

Thing was...she never did that.

She stood, the bottoms of her tingling awake as she walked to the doorway, halting in her steps at a sight just beyond the threshold. On her dining table sat black coffee in a glass mug, steam wafting from the mug’s center.

"Computer...Did Seven of Nine leave my room at 0200 hours?"

"Affirmative."

_‘Can’t be…that coffee’s fresh.’_

“Computer…Did anyone enter after 0200 hours?”

“Affirmative.”

Her brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Seven of Nine entered at 0415 hours.”

"Were there any overrides on my door?" She didn't know why she asked that as she crossed the living room to the coffee. A door override was the only obvious answer; there was no getting in without her command.

"Aﬃrmative. Algorithm: Seven-Theta-Eight."

Janeway took the coffee cup handle. "And I'm sure it's Borg." She lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip, feeling the liquid burn all the way down to her stomach. "Perfect." She smiled. “Computer…When did Seven of Nine last leave?”

“Seven of Nine left at 0545 hours.”

 _‘One day I’ll have to ask her how that long algorithm’s been prepared to open my door.’_ Janeway wandered the living space with the coffee nestled in her grasp. “Computer…what time is it now?”

“Time is 0603 hours.”

A blissful smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**08:45**

“You’re the last person I would have thought to be asking for a house call.” The Doctor walked into Cargo bay 2.

“I need help deciphering something Doctor.”

He met Seven at the computer console across from the alcoves.

“These are the results of my diagnostic from last night. I cannot make sense of the readings.”

She pressed a button and a line appeared on the screen fraught with jagged spikes, a sudden flat line in the middle, and an easy wave pattern at the end.

His brow tensed. “That’s because this shouldn’t be possible.” He pulled out his tricorder and turned to her profile with a lift of his chin. “I’d like to scan you.”

She turned her head to him.

“The entirety of you. Just to be sure.”

With a begrudging purse to her lips, she stepped away from the console and clasped her hands behind her back.

He started at the bottom scanning each leg, circling her with the red flashing light; his eyes glued to the tricorder.

The Borg had no use for “Doctor’s Visits” as a means of ascertaining information. After the assimilation process, a comprehensive diagnostic automatically ran each time the drone entered regeneration. The information was then fed to the hive. Any defects or malfunctions were fixed if deemed important, but more often, any drone with a malfunction was deactivated as it was considered a drain on resources.

With the regaining of humanity also came the regaining of uncertainty. She hated her body’s unpredictability.

A random twinge of pain, grumble or shudder, among so much more. She felt everything now, when as a Borg a chill over her skin was less than an afterthought. Every function, every voluntary or involuntary action—even breathing—was controlled and regulated by a complex system of implants.

When her breath hitched at the sight of the Captain last night, she had to remind herself to breathe as the painful aching in her chest started to spread.

And that’s not where the unwarranted sensations stopped. An all-consuming anxiety was starting to make predicting her actions around the Captain much harder, thwarting her sense of preparedness. The jaw clenching thoughts, the racing heart beats, the constant analyzing and processing of the Captain’s body language, it was all very draining, not to mention mentally taxing.

The Doctor scanned one arm to the next and the chest in between.

She had to admit, when she first met Janeway, she agreed with the Borg Queen’s notion of human fallibility. Not only was the human collective sloppy, occasionally lazy, and highly prone to error, but she couldn’t understand why they put their trust in the decisions of one person, who may be incorrect herself. That frustrated her, and early on Janeway’s explanations of her actions always sounded less logical and more persuasive.

But there were certain magnetic qualities to the short-statured woman, a courageous fearlessness and charisma that seemed to earn her respect.

The Borg only tolerated perfection, while Janeway wasn’t afraid of failure and adversity, the difference between fear and strength.

“Seven, have you been feeling any different lately?” The Doctor began his scans on her head.

Seven inhaled and exhaled an irritated breath. “I have been having headaches Doctor.” The red dot drifted around, flashing in her face before it froze; the Doctor’s brow furrowing at his tricorder, his mouth dipping to a frown.

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“What Doctor?”

“I’m picking up signs of acute neuro-degeneration—”

“Explain.” Seven’s brow clenched, their perplexed gazes locked, and after a moment the Doctor headed back to the console.

“This is your neural pathway, a unique footprint so to speak.” He paused. “The problem is…these readings are unheard of. The spikes indicate a traumatic occurrence of some kind and are typically seen in patients with serious brain injury. But then…” He pointed to the flat lined portion of the scan, stammering to find an explanation. “It completely stops. Brain activity never completely stops, it’s a constant wave. This only happens…in death.” He grabbed her arm gently, pulling them away from the readings. “You said you’d been experiencing headaches, explain that to me. Are they accompanied by nausea, dizziness, confusion…” He trailed off, letting go of her arm.

“No. They are intermittent and seem to vary in intensity.”

“Can you function during the most intense moment?”

“…No.” She averted her gaze. “They can be…debilitating.”

The Doctor watched her with a mild worry in his eyes. “I’m going to take these results and do some research. When I have answers, I’ll let you know. Come see me the _moment_ the headaches return. Understand?”

Seven looked to him; the proud tilt in her chin a little lower. “I do. Thank you, Doctor.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**09:13**

The meeting was supposed to start at 0900. In silence, the senior officers sat idle.

Janeway cleared her throat and glanced to her left at the empty chair opposite the hot-headed engineer.

 _‘Since when is **she** late?’_ B’Elanna tapped her fingers against her arm resting in her lap. Getting restless at the thickening tension surrounding them, she glanced around the conference room, her gaze landing on the Captain at the table’s peak.

The Captain put an elbow on the table and pressed a finger into her temple, her brow knitting together.

“So, uh…Has anyone been doing anything new lately?”

 _‘Tooom’_ B’Elanna rolled her eyes, glancing to him then to the Captain, who stayed silent and looked back to that empty chair.

“No? No one?”

*tssst*

The conference room doors opened and in walked the Ex-Borg, taking the path around the Captain’s chair to the empty seat.

“I apologize Captain.”

B’Elanna ears perked at the intimate tone to Seven’s voice as her words came out with a softness meant only for the Captain to hear. The Captain’s eyes followed Seven, watching the woman take her seat; their gazes staying locked for a moment too long as the Captain’s brow softened. “Okay…Let’s get started.” The Captain tore her attention from the Ex-Borg’s and glanced to each one of the senior crew. “I know it’s a pretty dry stretch, but is there _anything_ new to report?” The Captain laid a hand on the table closer to Seven, and the blonde’s eyes flew down, drinking in the hand’s details.

“B’Elanna?”

At the Captain’s voice, she looked away from Seven to the woman waiting for her to reply, watching her with a hand curled beneath her chin. “At this point Captain, it’s just routine maintenance in engineering. Nothing new to report.”

“Mr. Tuvok?”

“As you can imagine Captain, boredom has attributed to more altercations between crew and abuse of holo-deck privileges.”

Janeway waved off the minor offenses. “For right now let them have an extra holodeck hour. I can’t say I blame them.” She looked to Tom. “Lieutenant Paris?”

“Helms are good Captain.”

Her eyes drifted to Chakotay. “And of course Commander, I know we’re on the same page.”

After another wordless glance around the table, the Captain pushed out of her chair and walked the length of the room, to the briefing screen with ease. Standing next to the wall console with a hand on her hip she pressed a button bringing up an image of the black, empty space surrounding Voyager.

“According to Seven’s recent Astrometrics scans…we could be in this slump for about three more weeks.” She stepped away from the console, meandering back to her chair, rounding Seven’s side of the table. “Take it easy but be diligent. We still have a ship to run.” The Captain stopped, resting a hand on the top of Seven’s chair. The way the blonde clenched her jaw and averted her gaze, intrigued the half-Klingon's curious eyes.

 _‘Maybe Tom’s right. Maybe there is a “thing” between them.'_ B’Elanna watched as Seven took a deep breath, even squirming a little in her seat. _'_ _But then why does she look like she’d rather be anywhere but here?’_ B’Elanna focused on the gloomy look in Seven’s eyes before her gaze drifted up, shifting between the two. The Captain stood tall, relaxed but protective over Seven. _‘They suit each other. Not a bad looking power couple either.’_

A dark glint in Janeway’s eyes held her attention, because while the Captain was generally friendly, an unpredictable, self-contained spark in her eyes evoked an ominous warning.

If anything ever happened to Seven, B’Elanna only hoped the great Kahless gave her an honorable death, and led her to Sto-vo-kor in peace.

“Keep an eye on your ensigns…Boredom makes people negligent.”

B’Elanna leaned back in her chair with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest as Seven turned her face in the direction of the Captain’s voice, but kept her eyes down. _‘Kahless, she wants to look at her so bad.’_

Janeway looked down to Seven. “If there’s nothing else…dismissed.” She lifted her gaze.

Filing out with the others, B’Elanna waited for Tom just out of the conference room's view. She smirked as Tom met her in the hall.

“You were watching them the entire time.” He started with a smile.

“You noticed?”

“Hard not to.”

“Tom, I think you’re right. I think there’s something going on between them.” She gestured with a nod towards the open conference room door. “Just look.”

Tom turned over his shoulder and together they watched the sight before them.

The Captain sat on the edge of the table with her hands in her lap, looking up at the Ex-Borg who stood slightly closer than normal with her hands clasped behind her back. They conversed in muffled tones that could barely be made out from the hall.

B’Elanna reached for Tom’s sleeve, ready to pull them away, but just as her fingers touched his arm, she froze watching a smile stretch into an endearing, playful grin across the Captain’s face.

Oh yeah, something was going on, and judging by the predacious gleam in the Captain’s eyes, they weren’t far from exploring new worlds between the sheets—if they hadn’t already.

“Gosh, it looks like they’re gonna pounce on each other at any moment.” B’Elanna tugged on Tom’s sleeve, getting him to walk with her as she beamed with wide smile and proud saunter to her steps.

“Kind of reminds you of us, huh?”

B’Elanna grinned. “As long as they don’t lock me out of anymore doors, I’m fine.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**10:30**

He had no reason to walk into the Captain’s Ready Room, but curiosity drew him from his Commander’s chair. The Captain had been absent from the Bridge all morning, except for when she first arrived on duty and asked for quick updates from the crew.

Her seclusion meant she was deep in thought. He’d gotten used to the Captain’s chair being empty during major or trying decisions that required her careful attention. But what could be occupying her mind during a slow period in their journey such as this?

At the hiss of her door, she looked to him with a stoic expression from where she sat on the couch; the ready room atmosphere tense, missing the Captain’s jovial warmth. With a porcelain coffee cup in her grasp, she set the PADD in her opposite hand on her thigh. “Yes Commander.”

“How have you been handling the boredom?” He greeted her with a warm grin as he stepped up the platform on his way to the couch. “As adventurous as you are, I figured you’d be pulling your hair out by now.” That got a smile out of her.

“Actually, it’s a welcomed reprieve. Coffee?” She gestured to a silver carafe on the small table in front of her.

“No thank you. My taste is a little different from yours.”

“I’ve always respected that.” A hint of weariness touched her voice.

“So then, why do you still offer every time?”

The Captain glanced away with a shrug. “I don’t know. Out of habit, wishful thinking maybe.”

Her smile stretched into a beautiful grin, but that too seemed duller than usual.

He loved that smile, wanting to make her happy, to catch that grin a hundred times over. Taking a seat next to her, he leaned into the space between them, and her subtle recoil didn’t go unnoticed. Setting the coffee cup on the table, she set an elbow on her furthest knee and rested her cheek onto her knuckles, watching him from a distance.

“I feel like I’ve been seeing less and less of you this past week.” He started. “And it’s not easy to hide on a starship in the middle of nowhere.”

“Not hiding, just busy.”

“With…” He held in saying _“With Seven?”._ That was the first explanation that popped into his mind, because although the Captain had told him all about Seven’s avid researching, he didn’t miss the fact that she never elaborated on what that researching entailed.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Creaking Jefferies tube doors, beeping consoles, the piercing bright blue glare of the warp core, crew members brushing past her—she wanted to snap; to slam the Jefferies tube doors shut, to rip the typing fingers away from their consoles, to seclude herself somewhere dark, and to shove each person who brushed against her back as they passed.

Her head throbbed and pounded in waves, like a sea settling only to strike up a rambunctious current over and over.

Typing her data into the console a sharp stabbing rushed her, cutting down the middle of her forehead. With a grunt she raised her hand to her head, wincing. The sounds around her muffled and the wall console display twisted and warped as the pain surrounded her eyes.

“ **Seven.** ” The half-Klingon’s robust voice leapt through the air nearly shouting her name, and it sounded like she wasn’t happy.

Taking in a breath, she lowered her hand and rolled her shoulders back, turning to the approaching Klingon flying down the steps. She steeled her jaw, trying to discreetly fight the pain coursing through her head as her eyes tensed at the blue glow. “Yes…Lieutenant.”

“You trying to blow us up?” B’Elanna thrust a PADD at her. “Seven, all these calculations are wrong.”

Seven reached out and took the PADD. “…I apologize. I will get the corrections to you as soon as possible.” She hoped the nosy Klingon didn’t catch the gentle waver in her voice; the woman’s half-hearted inquiries were the last thing she wanted to hear, nor did she want to dignify them with a response. But as the Klingon’s eyes searched her face, she could tell the Lieutenant was close to seeing through her act. 

“Is something wrong?” B'Elanna nearly scoffed the words, crossing her arms over her chest with a furrowed brow.

“…No Lieutenant. If you will excuse me, I am going to redo these calculations in Astrometrics.”

“Seven.”

She turned her back to the woman commanding her attention and made a swift exit from Engineering.

Watching the main doors close with pursing lips, B’Elanna slapped her combadge. “Torres to Janeway.”

_“Go ahead B’Elanna.”_

“Seven’s acting strange. Just thought you’d like to know in case we need to start taking precautions. Don’t want another Borg family reunion.”

_“Strange how?”_

“She’s messing things up. And as much as I hate to admit it, she’s one of Engineering’s most reliable workers. She doesn’t _fumble_ on simple calculations.”

_“Noted Lieutenant, I’ll see if I can talk to her later. Is she still in Engineering?”_

“No. She stormed out, said she’s on her way to Astrometrics. But somehow I doubt that.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janeway and Chakotay locked gazes at B’Elanna’s suspicions.

“Computer locate Seven of Nine.” The Captain’s eyes never left his.

_“Seven of Nine is in Sick Bay.”_

Her brow shot to a furrow and before she knew it she was already headed towards the door, tossing her PADD onto the turquoise seat cushion. “We’ll have to continue our chat later Commander; I’ll see you on the bridge.” She disappeared out the door; her first officer's gaze lingering, his smile fading.

He looked to the discarded PADD and grabbed it before the display darkened, as turning it on again would require the Captain’s security code.

“Starfleet regulations?” His eyes scanned the legalese type text. _‘Code of Conduct: Senior Officers.’_ He scrolled the text, his eyes widening as he ran across key phrases like _“Relations with crew”_ and _“General discussion about fraternization”._ He turned the PADD off, letting it hang between his lap before he tossed it back to the cushion. _‘…Why Kathryn?’_

He sighed, remembering the signs he tried to forget. He’d grown to know her too well, noticing how her gaze lit up and watched Seven every time that Borg entered a room, sizing her figure with the lingering gazes she probably thought were discreet once overs. How she gave the blonde her best crooked grins, after pulling them aside for a one on one conversation. How she defended her, shooting down ill words with an occasionally icy response.

And then…the haircut. How could he not notice that shortly after Seven’s arrival Janeway chopped off her long, flowing tresses; the tresses he once helped toss over her shoulder in their closest moments.

He almost had her, but Janeway had since pushed back, sealing off any access to her heart where romance was concerned. Their Captain’s Quarters dinners were fewer, and their Ready Room chats stiffer. Now she called him Commander more often than Chakotay.

He missed her, _his_ Kathryn, but undeniably a new Janeway had emerged in the wake of that liberated Borg.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A.N. Yeeah…this was not the original ending of this chapter. There were about 2500 more words that I just cut. So, I am currently reworking the entire next scene, but I still wanted to give you something to read in the mean time. :ꟾ


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Sick Bay**

_“The failsafe is a device interlinked with the cortical node that triggers an automatic shutdown when abnormal emotional activity starts to occur in the brain. The purpose of the failsafe is to maintain control and solidarity within the Collective._

_Borgs who undergo time in maturation chambers have a failsafe embedded in the brain. Assimilated adults have a failsafe embedded in the cortical node.”_

With a PADD in his hand, the Doctor studied the Hansen files on the Borg. Hovering in the air in front of him two three-dimensional holoimages of dissected brains, both pre-2370’s Borg drones, and unfortunately neither human, but a young Ktarian and an adult Romulan. Both were different from the human brain in color and partitioning. But the most important thing was that across species Borg technology remained the same.

He focused on the Ktarian brain. The failsafe chip had been embedded in the epicenter of emotional expression, which for the human brain was the frontal lobe.

“Hm.” He grimaced. If only the Hansens knew the lasting effects of assimilation their daughter had to endure, years after the risky decisions they made to follow their intrigue in the name of science.

‘ _Seven was only six when assimilated, too young to be an operational drone.’_ He sighed, closing out the images and setting the PADD on his desk.

Riding the line between sentient or not, he understood her plight. He was never in control, always at the mercy of some organic being to activate him or fix glitches in his program. But code could be erased, corrupted, and lost. He brushed off the crews’ threats to deactivate him or delete his humanizing subroutines, but the fear was always there, that the freedom he had finally acquired could be taken away at the whim of someone else.

The Sick Bay door hissed open and the Doctor looked up from his desk, catching sight of the woman stumbling in. Seven held a hand to her head, leaning into a supporting arm outstretched to the door frame. He stood, moving towards the squinting Ex-Borg with haste. “Seven— _"_

“The headaches are unbearable Doctor.” Seven demanded his help with her sharp tone, clenching her brow to a deep furrow.

“I assume you’re experiencing one now.” Grabbing a hypospray from a tray atop the computer console, he programmed it and walked to her side, pressing it to her neck.

_*Tsst*_

“That should help.” The Doctor looked down, his mouth lengthening with a frown. “I must say…you have impeccable timing.”

The distress in her eyes quieted as her heaving chest began to relax. “What do you know?” Seven’s pressing words and coarse tone struck him like daggers.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news…” He started. “Seven…these headaches most likely are not the result of a malfunction.” He walked to the computer console with her in tow. “But rather…the result of a Borg failsafe.” He pushed a few buttons on the screen, bringing up an enlarged image of a failsafe chip.

“ **Explain.** ”

“I know I’ve been encouraging you to explore your feelings—and can only surmise that I may have some fault in this— but have you been experiencing any…unbridled emotion lately?”

Seven clenched her jaw. “…Why?”

“This chip is designed to shut down your cortical node when you achieve a certain level of emotional stimulation.”

“Another one of the Borg’s means of control.”

“Precisely.”

Seven lifted her chin and looked to him. “How soon can this be fixed Doctor?”

 _‘ **Fixed**? Did she not hear the part about shutting down her cortical node?’_ Oh how he wished she didn’t put all the pressure on him sometimes, thinking he had the perfect answers to all her problems and malfunctions. Sifting through the Starfleet database to find enough detailed information on the Borg was a trying experience itself, leaving him disheartened at the little there was. If it weren’t for the added information in the Hansen files, he’d be left guessing.

“Unfortunately Seven, this is not an easy fix. Extraction of the failsafe will require some form of neurosurgery, and—”

The Sick Bay doors opened, and his words caught in his throat as he glanced over. _‘Captain?’_

From the computer they turned to meet the furrow in the Captain’s brow, her confounded gaze darting about Sick Bay before she found her target, stopping and staring right at Seven. With each breath her shoulders subtly rose and fell, denoting that she probably rushed from the bridge. But how did she even know?

Calming her haste, the Captain walked towards them standing tall, but he noticed the brief, tentative lingering in her steps.

He looked to Seven, the woman clenching her jaw as she swallowed, her chest rising and falling with anxious breaths.

“What’s going on Seven?” Suspicion laced the Captain’s voice. “B’Elanna tells me you’re acting strangely, messing up calculations…” She stopped less than an arm’s distance away from the taller woman. “And I have to admit…it’s not like you to be late for a meeting.”

“A simple headache Captain.” Seven moved over, blocking the console screen from the Captain’s view.

Janeway noticed. “One bad enough to send you to Sick Bay?”

“…Yes.”

 _‘Why is the Captain pressing the matter?’_ The Doctor watched her perplexed and soon Janeway’s narrowing gaze turned to him.

“Doctor?”

He glanced to Seven, the woman’s eyes telling him not to say anything. But there was something else in her eyes that drew his lingering gaze, a hint of pleading, even sadness beneath her tensing brow. He looked down into those hawk-like eyes watching him. “Need I remind you of Doctor-Patient confidentiality Captain—”

“Need I remind you of who you’re talking to?” Stunned by her own snapping, the Captain averted her eyes from his wide gaze and sighed, holding up a relenting hand. “I’m sorry Doctor…” Her voice softened and her eyes met his, the hostility in them significantly lessened. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“Captain, if I may be so blunt, what does this concern yo—” He stared at the predominate worry in Janeway’s eyes.

The Captain cared deeply about Seven, he knew it, everyone did. But the rare semblance of fear he saw in the Captain’s eyes, told him a very different story. Like the heart-wrenching fear consuming Des Grieux’s gaze in Puccini’s Manon Lescaut, as he held his dying lover Manon in Act 4. It was that story, encapsulating a lover’s fear of loss.

He looked up to the blonde, remembering Seven’s “admiration” for the Captain.

He kept it from Seven, but at the time of that conversation his scans indicated more, with Seven’s neurochemistry having spiked to an all-time high.

Not knowing what to make of it, he played it safe telling her her feelings were _admiration_ when it really leaned towards sexual arousal. He simply figured the sudden onset of new emotions threw Seven’s hormones out of whack, giving her higher medical readings than normal.

 _‘I never thought to ask if maybe…’_ He clenched his brow at the woman whose eyes had locked onto the Captain.

“Is there a problem Doctor?”

He ignored Janeway’s concern. “Seven? Are you and the…w-why didn’t you tell me—”

“Thank you Doctor for your input computer deactivate EMH.” Seven’s rushed words and annoyed voice struck the room just before he fizzled away mid-sentence.

Janeway turned to the blonde with a knowing look and tense brow. “What are you hiding from me Seven?” She paused. “Keeping things from me won’t help us move forward.”

Seven stayed quiet, turning to the console, her back to the Captain. “…I suppose not.” She hesitated a moment longer. “Computer reactivate EMH.” Defeat filled her voice and the Doctor shimmered back to life.

“I really hate it when you guys do that—”

“Explain it to her Doctor.” Seven turned to him with a slower lift of her chin.

“Are you sure Seven?”

“…Yes.”

The Doctor looked to Janeway. “Seven’s headaches are a result of a Borg failsafe. In the Collective if a drone were to begin experiencing emotional activity beyond what is limited, this chip…” He pointed to the screen and Janeway moved closer; her arm brushing against Seven as she studied the diagram on the console with a scientist’s eyes. “…acts as a kill switch shorting and then disabling the cortical node.”

Janeway pulled away from the console, a little color draining from her face. “…And then what Doctor?”

He stammered when she turned to him, the sharp look in her eyes a warning. “Well…Seven would die.”

The Captain looked back to the screen, no shock on her face.

“Without her cortical node her implants cannot function.” He glanced to Seven who watched Janeway’s profile with gentle sorrow befalling her gaze.

“How long have you been having these headaches?” Janeway’s stern voice commanded an answer from the woman beside her.

“Three weeks Captain.”

Janeway stayed quiet for a while, her jaw clenched, and lips pressed to a tight line.

He figured a series of morbid scenarios were flooding her mind, helping her prepare for the worst possible outcome.

“Wouldn’t this process be instant?” She looked to him, her tone cautious, worry leaking out from her cracked Captain’s demeanor.

“For a regular drone…possibly. But my theory is, since Seven’s human physiology began reasserting itself, she has developed a certain tolerance because her body no longer relies on Borg implants alone. In Seven’s case I believe this process is taking weeks, and has manifested in the form of headaches.”

“Doctor.” Seven’s attention turned to him. “Is there a procedure to remove the chip?”

His eyes drifted down. “I’ve been working on something…” He looked back to her. “…but I’m afraid any surgery would be risky.”

With a frustrated grumble under her breath, Janeway turned her back to them and walked away from the console, her hands going to her forehead and hip as she paced the room.

“How risky Doctor?” Seven asked.

“You could end up brain dead.”

Seven glanced over her shoulder to Janeway, and when she looked back to him, he saw the determination in her eyes. He was doing that surgery regardless of what he thought about it. He looked to the Captain who stood in the middle of Sick Bay contemplating, probably trying to think of a-hundred-and-one ways to do things differently.

 _‘I’m surprised I didn’t catch on to it earlier.’_ He thought.

Practical, efficient, brutally honest, Seven was a good match for the Captain. Someone to keep the _intrepid_ woman grounded and level-headed. Someone to love her, to look after her as she did everyone else. Someone to take the weight off her shoulders, to fight for her and smack some sense into her head when she tried to brave the unknown alone. And someone to be there, to ride through the bumpy aftermath of those risky decisions. 

And just as important as Seven was to the Captain, the Captain was to Seven. The Ex-Borg needed an unwavering constant in her life, and someone patient, who wasn’t afraid to confront her stubbornness.

The main problem he saw with this blossoming relationship was the Captain. As told by the failsafe, Seven had no issue expressing her feelings, but the Captain was different, he speculated from his many interactions with her. If pushed too far too soon, she would start to shut down, _or_ her sense of duty would blind her and she would pull away, insisting on keeping their relationship professional.

“I want you to do it—”

“Seven.”

The blonde clenched her jaw at Janeway’s stern plea but stared steadfast into his eyes.

“This is my choice Doctor. I want you to do it—”

“Wait.” Janeway walked over, resting a supportive hand on Seven’s arm. “Doctor, are there any alternatives to this procedure? Something less invasive?”

“If we can bring Seven’s neural readings back to what they were prior to the headaches, then there is a possibility we can stay the affects and subsequent neurodegeneration, essentially keeping the failsafe at bay—”

“Concluding my relationship with the Captain—”

“Seven.” The Captain sniped out of instinct, trying to protect a secret already in the open.

Seven looked to the woman holding onto her. “Did you think the Doctor did not know?”

If he had a heart it would have raced at the gripping scene before him, playing out like something ripped from a soap opera. He could see the story’s plot shining in his mind’s eye; a leader’s steamy, almost illicit relationship with a subordinate facing surmounting odds as they’re forced to live and work day by day amongst each other, all while hiding the rapturous details of their heated romance behind sealed lips and closed doors.

He cleared his throat, taming his melodramatic thoughts. “Of course, that would also mean reversing the progress Seven’s made with her individuality.” He looked to the Ex-Borg. “Even though you came to us kicking and screaming, I doubt you want to go back.”

“You are correct.” Seven glanced to him and back to the Captain, whose distant gaze avoided her. “It is worth it to me.”

Letting go of Seven, Janeway walked to the console. “There has to be another way.” She leaned in, her hands bracing the counter’s edge as she scanned the screen again, readying her finger to press a button.

_“Captain to the Bridge.”_

At the announcement overhead, her hovering hand fell to the countertop and she hung her head.

Seven’s hand slid onto her shoulder; a riveting sight the Doctor thought as he caught the true concern in Seven’s gesture, and the subtle clench of her hand. He’d never seen her touch anyone else that way—or touch anyone period.

Janeway ignored the hand, not even looking in the Ex-Borg’s direction. When she lifted her gaze, a furrow scrunched her brow as she turned around, walking out from underneath the hand, and through the Sick Bay doors without a word or glance to either of them.

“I’ve never seen her react that way.” The Doctor was the first to speak as he and Seven stared at the closed Sick Bay doors.

“Doctor…” Seven looked to him. “How soon can you do the procedure?”

“Tomorrow, if you’re ready.”

“I have no reason to wait.” She took a step towards the door.

“Seven.” He caught her attention and she turned to him. “I’d like for you to wear this cortical monitor.” He moved to the opposite side of the medical console. “It will allow me to monitor your neural pathways and let me know what’s going on the next time you start having headaches.”

She nodded.

Picking up a small, round medical sensor from the tray on the counter he moved in, placing it against the left side of her neck. “Seven…” He softened his voice, his face near hers as he activated the sensor. “How _is_ it going with the Captain?”

“I do not see any medical need in this line of questioning.” She kept her focus straight ahead.

“Now I’m asking as a friend. We haven’t covered any lessons on dating yet and I think the Captain is quite an advanced first choice.” He paused. “It’s a little early to be speaking about love, but do you…” He trailed off trying to elicit a response from her.

“Do I what Doctor?” She looked to him as he stepped back and met her gaze.

“Do you…love her?”

“I desire her, yes.”

The Doctor held up a finger and smiled. “Love and desire are not the same thing.”

“…I am not sure what you are asking Doctor. But I believe the Captain understands my intentions.”

“Has she reciprocated?”

“Much.”

The Doctor almost grinned, looking away with a hint of glee in his eyes as he turned his back to her and started away, meandering about Sick Bay. “You two did always have a special _zest_ together—”

“Doctor I must get back to work.”

On his heel he turned to her, forgetting his romantic musings. “Of course.” He held his smile. "Hard as it may be, refrain from any emotional stimulation, and I will let you know immediately if I find any new information.”

“Understood.” Seven nodded to him and walked out of Sick Bay.

The Doctor watched the doors close, then turned around with a triumphant “hmph”, and headed back to his office.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Bridge**

“Harry run another scan.” Chakotay stood from his chair and turned to Ensign Kim’s workstation, placing his hand on the railing between them.

“Still nothing Commander.” Harry’s eyes met his. “It’s gone.”

“Report.”

At the Captain’s stern voice, Chakotay looked to the turbolift watching Kathryn step out with a furrow pinching her brow.

“I swear sensors picked up a ship Captain.” Harry’s eyes darted about his console and his hands flew across the board.

“And I can vouch for that.” Chakotay saved the ensign from the Captain’s wrath.

Not even an hour since their chat and her demeanor had completely changed, her lips tight and eyes grim.

He knew that look, recognized the way anger transformed her face. As a person with a substantial amount of self-control, the Captain’s temper only surfaced when circumstances turned personal. His eyes lingered on her all the way to the Captain’s chair. She took a careful seat, and not once looked at him. “Whatever was out there seems to have disappeared from sight. Like any trace has been erased.”

Just as she began to slouch in her chair, she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, a hand cupping her jaw, and fingers spidering across her mouth.

Her eyes glazed over the more he watched her stare at the view screen. She was deep in thought, but not about the ship.

“Cloaking residue?”

“None Captain.” Harry answered her half-hearted inquiry.

“Maintain Course.”

Chakotay’s brow tensed as he wondered why a normally explorative person cared nothing about a possible anomaly in their vicinity. What happened in Sick Bay? “Captain—”

“Do it.”

The bridge silenced and Chakotay glanced to Harry, who peeled his anxious eyes from the Captain; Voyager’s humming thickening the atmosphere. Chakotay took his seat looking to her once more, and with reluctance back to the view screen.

He’d lost a part of her; he could feel it.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A.N. Dialogue...TONS of dialogue, I know. On the opposite hand, I'm finishing up a one-shot with much less dialogue, that I’ve been working on for a while. Will anyone read a sad-ish J7 one-shot lol?


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N. Thank you for all the support and for your patience with this story. This chapter has been finished for a while I just kept trying to edit it because I didn’t really like it. Anyway, Here it is. Happy Reading :)**

* * *

**15:30**

*Bzzt*

The cortical monitor at her neck signaled its hourly scan with a buzz against her skin. Ripped from her mind-numbing thoughts, Seven glanced to a crew member passing her in the corridor, giving a curt nod to his odd look. He must’ve caught either the subtle jump of her shoulders or the awakened dart of her eyes as the cortical monitor’s buzz intruded her daydream.

From the moment she left Astrometrics her feet had been on autopilot; her heart thumping at her chest and her palms getting clammy as she neared her destination.

The Captain’s presence in Sick Bay—random as it was—stunned her, anger simmering within her chest at first sight.

Her personal issues were _none_ of the crew’s business. She wanted to confront Lieutenant Torres to make that clear; an action the Klingon would likely escalate into an unnecessary altercation.

Seeing the Captain standing across from her, she could hardly stomach how those chiseled eyes scrutinized her under a furrowed brow, picking out all her imperfections, disappointed by her shortcomings, by a broken machine always having to be fixed.

But there was comfort in the Captain’s presence as well, in seeing her own frustration, anger, and concern mirrored in the Captain’s demeanor. Watching Janeway mull over the unfavorable results on the Sick Bay console, consistently asking the Doctor for alternatives, her sympathy for the irked woman overrode her own fear regarding the risky procedure.

She commed for the Captain on two separate occasions after that Sick Bay meeting, hours apart, both work-related but not essential. The Captain turned her down first with a “Sorry Seven I’m busy”, and next with “Now is not a good time”.

She brushed off the first excuse, but the annoyance in the Captain’s voice kept her thoughts wandering throughout the day, constantly separating her from her work. Why was she suddenly so busy? She _was_ the Captain—but no, this was different.

Eager to jump into her arms just days ago, the Captain now shoved her to a distance, but why?

_Keeping things from me won’t help us move forward.”_

The Captain’s own words inspired unity, oneness between them, still echoing in her thoughts as she caught the Ready Room door in her sight.

This time the solution was not to keep knowledge of the Borg Queen to herself, but to work with the Captain instead of against.

No matter the detriment to her, Janeway needed to be aware of the threat, to keep Voyager safe and get home. The Captain wouldn’t be happy either way, but Kathryn would be angrier if she found out later—

_‘Kathryn…’_ Seven paused in the hall, perking in curious thought. The Captain’s name sounded foreign to her…strange even. _‘Kathryn.’_ She said the name again in her head, clenching her jaw to fight the urge to utter it aloud for those passing to catch; its first inclusion in her thoughts being a careless slip of informality.

Commander Chakotay often called the Captain by her first name and was the only one aboard who did so. She noted the name as he said it; Janeway never elaborating on many aspects of her personal life, staying reserved even in the privacy of those Captain’s Quarters visits.

She wondered why the Captain allowed him to refer to her with such familiarity—especially in the company of others—blurring the lines between them and breaking down the hierarchal structure of command. A sloppy, contradictory practice, but maybe that was the point. The Captain was a daunting character to decipher. One moment strict, rigidly adhering to protocol, and the next, allowing a great deal of leeway.

Commander Chakotay touched her shoulder, arm, or back occasionally, and the Captain seemed to welcome the unprofessional gestures, sometimes acknowledging him with a bright smile, or even returning his familiarities.

What did he have?

Chakotay’s role as her second in command saw him acting as a close, even personal advisor to the Captain. But their understanding of one another seemed to be more intimate. Seven often watched their interactions from a distance, looking up from a PADD in the mess hall or from over the bridge console behind their command chairs, intrigued by how he managed to have access to a different side of the Captain, a gentler side she longed to know.

_‘Kathryn…’_ She wanted to say the Captain’s name aloud, just once, to feel the same pleasant closeness between them. But when?

Seven scuffed to a sudden halt, her face inches from the closed Ready Room door she expected to open upon nearing. With an inhale she rolled her shoulders back, lifting her chin before placing her finger on the door’s sensor, clenching her jaw with a quick purse of her lips.

It wasn’t every day the Captain sealed her door, and Seven enjoyed the ease of entering whenever she pleased, basking in the Captain’s often surprised look.

_“Why do you leave your doors unsealed?”_ She once asked during a Ready Room chat after their budding conversation was interrupted by Ensign Kim busting in with an operations report that could’ve waited. The Captain’s response was to describe an _“open-door policy”_ , plus the added explanation of _“I shouldn’t be doing anything in my Ready Room that someone would be ashamed to walk in on”_.

At a few intriguing, salacious thoughts Seven’s body warmed. She pictured them on the couch or over the desk; the Ready Room still one of the few places their rendezvous hadn’t reached, but only because she tried to respect the Captain’s loyalty to her work.

_“Come in.”_ The Captain’s voice granted her access and the door opened.

Seven strode in, opening her mouth ready to speak, but she froze in the middle of the room and quieted, giving a saluting nod to the Lieutenant Commander whose stoic gaze turned to her.

Tuvok gave no acknowledgement and looked back to the Captain, who stared Seven down with a piercing gaze from where she stood on the raised platform, her hand resting idle on the rail dividing her workspace from the lounge, hostility plaguing her eyes.

“I am here if you need to talk Captain.”

In a sudden switch Janeway looked to the floor, a tender smile stretching across her face as she stepped down from the lounge, placing a gentle hand on Tuvok’s shoulder. “Thank you old friend. I appreciate the offer…but I’m fine.”

With an acquiescent nod to her Tuvok turned, catching Seven’s gaze once more before he exited to the bridge.

The door hissed closed.

“Yes Seven.” The tone in the Captain’s voice dropped to something less than inviting; the smile on Janeway’s face gone, replaced with a frown and furrowed brow as she kept her gaze down.

Seven clasped her hands behind her back, standing tall. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“That never sounds good.” The Captain brushed past her picking up the silver mug from her desk and heading back up the steps to the replicator in silence. “Refill, Coffee, Black.”

The bittersweet aroma filled the air and the Captain turned to her with gentle steam wafting from her mug, her indifferent gaze obscure and confounding as their eyes met. “Well?” She asked, the impatience in her voice elongating the word slightly as she lifted the mug to her lips, meandering towards the couch.

“The Borg Queen has been contacting me.”

Pausing in her steps, the Captain gulped a strained swallow and cleared her throat, the coffee most likely too hot. “That’s certainly something important,” came Janeway’s strained annoyance as she cleared her throat once more. “How long?”

“Two weeks Captain—”

“And you’re just telling me now, why?”

The Captain’s cold shoulder and scolding question stunted Seven’s words as Seven watched the woman’s profile. She’d planned to take the Captain’s anger in stride, but it wasn’t easy confronting such an abrupt turn in the Captain’s demeanor. The past few weeks had given her a different impression of their relationship.

“I thought it was something I could handle on my own.”

The Captain turned to her, eyes softening under the Ready Room’s harsh light, but the tense in her brow stayed set. “I’ve told you many times Seven, you never have to do anything alone on this ship.”

Seven averted her gaze. “It was my preference.”

Silent, the Captain moved to the couch with a gentle hunch to her shoulders. “I guess there’s no use in asking what she wants, since we already know it’s you.” She sat and leaned back, the cup resting on her knee.

“This time she is stronger than before and more persistent.”

“How do you know that?” The Captain’s eyes drifted to the mug in her hand.

Seven readied herself with a breath. “She used my eidetic memory to download Voyager’s schematics and specifications.”

Those steely blue-grey eyes shot to hers, sharpened as a furrow clenched the Captain’s brow once more. “What?” The word escaped the Captain’s mouth with disdain.

“She also threatened to deactivate me.”

With a clench of her jaw the Captain looked down and leaned forward, resting an elbow on her unoccupied knee and pressing her finger into her temple as she hunched over her lap. “How does she plan to do that?” Her voice softened.

“I believe through the failsafe. She seems to have control over the intensity of these headaches.”

The Captain looked up, her hand flopping to a dangle in her lap. “That would mean…the failsafe is…”

“Still connected to the Collective, yes.”

The Captain’s eyes studied her unblinkingly, before Janeway relented and looked away. “I wonder why she hasn’t tried this sooner.” Her downtrodden tone caught Seven’s attention.

“I do not believe she knew until recently…with the activation of the failsafe.”

The Captain sucked her lips in for a moment. “You mean us.”

“…Correct.” Seven added with a nod, watching the Captain place her coffee on the table and stand, turning to the starry viewport as she slid a hand into her pocket, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath.

“Why don’t we sit down with the Borg Queen and have a chat, just the three of us huh? Establish some boundaries to this tug of war relationship.” The Captain hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m getting tired of this.”

That struck a nerve. “Then you can happily set me down on the next planet we encounter, and you will be rid of your nuisance.”

Any tension remaining in the Captain’s shoulders fell with a gentle sigh and she turned to Seven, obvious guilt seated on her face. “…I didn’t mean it that way Seven. You’re invaluable to this ship.”

“I “got tired of it” a long time ago.” Seven felt the furrow in her brow. “It is not my choice to have someone creeping around in my head.”

“I know…I’m sorry.”

The Captain’s tender apology abated her anger.

_‘Captain…’_ Seven wanted to walk to the woman, to meet her at the top of the steps and…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d do once they stood face to face. Acting upon “urges” didn’t seem appropriate. And right now, that was okay. She only wanted to feel the Captain’s supporting arms around her. But why?

Was this sensation love? If so, why did it feel so bad?

The Borg Queen’s last intrusion disrupted her research regarding “love”.

The compiled information she’d managed to store in her memory conjured flashes of smiling and hugging couples, some holding hands. And, the database held an astounding number of dedicated prose on the matter, but she didn’t understand them.

As though the poetic words were written in an encrypted code she couldn’t crack, they confounded her with elusive meaning and abstract verses, frustrating her as none explained why the Captain made her feel as she did.

“We need to prepare. I’ll call a meeting.” The Captain walked down the steps, forgetting her coffee.

Staring in opposite directions, their shoulders brushed as Janeway stopped, Seven glancing down to the back of the Captain’s hand touching her thigh. “You know I won’t let you go back.”

Seven lifted her chin, clenching the hands folded behind her back. “I do.”

“The Borg Queen will lose, even if this time she has to perish.”

_‘Captain?’_ Seven turned at the darkness in the Captain’s voice, watching the woman’s back as Janeway paced away and tapped her combadge.

“Janeway to all senior officers, meeting in the Briefing Room now.”

* * *

**Briefing Room**

Finally, a break.

Tired of playing mother to a bunch of unenthused cadets in Engineering, B’Elanna welcomed the distraction. Seven was right about one thing, humans were sloppy sometimes. She hated to think she was a micro-manager, but always ended up correcting or redoing work after finding too many errors in the end results she had received.

Presently rushed away from her re-calibration of the EPS manifold, B’Elanna walked into the Briefing Room with a cocked eyebrow and shifty gaze scanning about the room, catching a direct stare from Tuvok.

The other senior officers filed in with similar expressions, glancing to one another as they took their seats; the Captain and Seven sitting in wait at the head of the table, looking like they’d been there for a while, like the two in collusion were finally ready to share their secrets with everyone else.

“What’s going on Captain?” B’Elanna pulled out the chair opposite Seven and sat.

The Captain said nothing to her, waiting for everyone to settle into their seats before starting.

“In light of some news Seven’s brought forward we have reason to believe the Borg are closer to us than we think.” Janeway leaned onto the table, folding her hands. “We’re not sure where, or when, but we may have a fight coming.”

B’Elanna relaxed into her chair, eyeing Seven. “I knew it.” She grumbled under her breath.

A simmering gaze shot her way.

“Do you have something you’d like to share with the rest of us Lieutenant?”

Caught off guard, B’Elanna’s head reeled back at the Captain’s scorching tone, her eyes a little wider than before. She gave a smiling, incredulous huff and glanced away. “I’m just wondering when this will be over.” She answered truthfully. “The Borg are only getting stronger each day. How many more times will we go through this before finally being assimilated?”

The Captain looked as though she were subtly gritting her teeth behind her tight lips.

“You’re saying it was a mistake to bring me aboard.” Seven chimed in, staring steadfast from across the table.

_‘Seriously?’_ Holding in her scoff, B’Elanna crossed her arms, meeting Seven’s gaze with a menacing challenge in her own. “I didn’t _say_ any of that—”

“Lieutenant, I think it would be best if you chose your words wisely.” The Captain started, that ominous spark flashing to her eyes’ forefront. “Seven is a member of this crew and will be treated as such.” The Captain broke their shared, simmering gaze and glanced around the table. “And Voyager does not leave any member of this crew behind, understood?”

With a clear warning toted in her words, careful nods came her way as Janeway waited for each member’s acknowledgment.

“Good…” She said curt. “Let’s move on.”

* * *

A warm rush filled her chest and Seven couldn’t help but stare at the Captain, trying to hold back a proud smirk at the Captain’s raging defense of her; the Captain leaning back in her chair with a furrowed brow, looking overwhelmed, inwardly fuming even; a rare display of emotion to witness, coming from such a confident, and _mostly_ even-tempered person.

If she could, she would’ve reached under the table and set a hand on the Captain’s knee, using a supportive technique learned from Janeway herself. But the possibility of the Captain’s bad reaction to such a touch in public kept her musings at bay.

“Kath—Captain.” Seven kept a confident tilt in her chin, hoping the unconscious switch was inconspicuous.

The Captain turned, looking her straight in the eye, not appearing to catch her slip of tongue.

“I would like to explain it to them.”

“It?”

“My situation of course.”

With a hint of wariness in her gaze, the Captain looked away, hesitating but giving an acquiescent nod.

Seven glanced to the eyes watching her. “A Borg failsafe linked to my cortical node activated and is presumably the reason the Borg Queen began to contact me again. I will need surgery to have it removed.”

A palpable, sympathetic sorrow thickened the air as the room grew silent; Seven not acknowledging their pity for her.

“Has she been able to track you?” Chakotay asked down the table.

“There is no conclusive evidence to support that she has, but theoretically, she could be using comm wave telemetry to trace my whereabouts. It is a tedious method but is likely the reason for her repeated communications. I have encrypted the alcove’s comm frequency. It will buy time, but she will adapt.” Seven looked to the Captain, stunned to find the woman staring at her, eyebrows turned up at the inner corners, visible worry in her eyes. But not long after, the Captain’s brow leveled and her gaze dulled once more, dropping to the table.

“Is there any way to disable the signal completely?”

In unison, they both looked to Chakotay.

“Not without disconnecting the alcove entirely.” Seven answered. “Borg technology is designed to work in tandem with other systems, not independently.”

“Surely there has to be some alternative.” B’Elanna grumbled, begrudgingly offering her opinion, looking neither to Seven nor the Captain.

“If there is, I’m sure we’ll find it.” The Captain kept her eyes forward, not looking at the Klingon as she addressed her comment. “But right now I want sensor scans run every hour, and I will be monitoring the sensor logs. Communicate this to the night duty shift as well.”

“Captain.” Harry started at the end of the table from beside Chakotay.

“Yes Ensign.”

“What do we do in the event the Borg are cloaked? They may pick up our scans before we find them.”

“He is right…” Tuvok said. “The Borg have been in enough altercations with us to learn our tactics, and this time I doubt they want us to see them coming.”

“Mask your sensor scans, don’t let them know we’re aware.” The Captain faced the Klingon. “B’Elanna, there’s always the chance we might need to get out quick. I want engineering in top shape. Make sure the warp core is ready for anything.”

“…Understood Captain.” B’Elanna’s voice was softer than before, her lips in a gentle purse.

“Tuvok, calibrate the alignment of our phaser arrays. I want pinpoint accuracy, and work with Harry to fortify our shields.” Janeway glanced to the faces around the table. “Anymore comments or concerns? The floor’s open.” At the received silence she gave a curt nod. “Dismissed.”

The senior staff pushed out of their chairs and filed out a little too hastily, but Seven stayed behind. The Captain must’ve sensed it because she didn’t move from her chair either.

The Captain looked over and Seven opened her mouth only to be cut off by Janeway’s halting hand.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Concern filled the Captain’s softened voice, the woman noticeably calming. “I don’t mind if you help for a little while, but I want you to rest—”

“Rest?” Seven nearly scoffed. “Is that an order?”

“Yes. You heard what the Doctor said—”

“Captain.” Seven rolled her eyes. “There’s hardly anything _over-stimulating_ about Astrometrics.”

The Captain tried to fight it but ended up with an amused smile stretched across her face. “Are you saying you’re bored?” She raised her eyebrows. “Because I can surely find you something else to do.”

Seven clenched her jaw at the Captain’s tired, crooked grin and subtle chuckle, her eyes searching the Captain’s face as the woman did hers.

Janeway’s eyes drifted to the table. “I’m not going to fight with you Seven.” She looked up with a stern face and tone. “Harry can assist in Astrometrics once he’s done helping Tuvok. Remember, this isn’t the first time we’ve encountered the Borg.”

Seven looked away with a furrowed brow. “As I am consistently reminded.”

The Captain reached over and took Seven’s arm, melting Seven’s irritation and surprising her senses with the simple touch as Seven looked up from the Captain’s hand to the eyes watching her. “B’Elanna means well. Don’t let her get to you.”

Seven’s eyes followed the Captain as Janeway stood, her gaze traipsing up the woman’s slender but commanding form.

“Let me know if you need anything.” The Captain said grasping the top of Seven’s chair as a hand nursed the back of her neck.

She didn’t need but want. She wanted to feel the Captain’s touch again. It soothed her and spun her into a frenzy at the same time. Was that even possible?

However, this time the Captain’s offer was weak, and the woman kept her eyes down while saying it before retreating to her Ready Room, leaving Seven in the briefing room alone; An empty feeling surfacing after the open and close hiss of the Ready Room door.

* * *

**Tom Paris’s Quarters—17:40**

“Did you _see_ how she ripped into me?”

He could tell she’d been holding this in for the past couple hours, just itching to yell and vent about that tense moment in the Briefing Room. He didn’t blame her, the Captain rarely lashed out like that and had blindsided them all.

“The Captain was certainly edgy.” Tom tried to focus on the fuming half-Klingon while setting the table in his quarters with their replicated dinner.

“She _threatened_ me Tom. Berated me in front of everyone like _I_ had the problem…”

“Computer dim lights fifty percent—”

The room plunged to an amber glow.

“Was I wrong—No. How many times _will_ we risk our lives so Janeway can play savior?”

He faced his pacing lover with a smile and walked over to her. “Think about it this way.” Tom stopped her, his hands on B’Elanna’s shoulders. “How would you feel if I were in danger? Be careful how you answer this one.” He ended with a smile.

B’Elanna looked away with a scoff. “I know where you’re going with this—"

“You’d be worried. Right?” He raised his eyebrows, as if to say, _“I hope so”_.

“Of course.” Her words shot out like they could’ve shoved him.

“Janeway’s no different.” He kept his voice even. “She’s just found out the Borg are trying to get to Seven and obviously she won’t let that happen. When you mentioned what you did she got defensive, protecting Seven as I would you or you would me.”

“I was just being honest. It was _the Borg_ that blew it out of proportion.”

“I know.” Tom spoke soft. B’Elanna cared about Seven in her own way. She only called her “the Borg”, using what could be considered derogatory remarks because she was frustrated and irritated, getting caught up in that temper that often caused her a lot of problems.

B’Elanna moved out from his grasp and turned her back to him with a huff. “So you’re saying I need to watch my words around Janeway because one inflammatory thing could have her slitting my throat.”

Tom chuckled. “I’m saying love makes people do crazy things…” He approached her as she turned to him with arms crossed over her chest. “We know that.” He slipped his hands around her waist, getting a smile from the woman in his grasp. “Come on, you know I’m right.” He held an endearing smile. “Don’t take it personally.”

“Ugh.” B’Elanna pushed out of his grasp and walked to the table with him in tow. “I wish they would just admit it already. It’s painful watching these two dance around each other.”

“How do we know they haven’t?” He pulled out her chair then moved to his.

“Come on Tom…”

They took their seats opposite each other.

“The Captain doesn’t _snap_ for no reason. It’s obvious they’re both holding back. And I think it has more to do with Janeway than Seven.”

“I can agree with that.” Tom picked up his fork and looked to her. “Wanna talk about something else?”

“ _Please_.”


End file.
